The Queen of Hearts
by BeyondTheSea13
Summary: Elsa is struggling to adjust to her new roles as Queen and sister, but any progress she's made toward understanding leadership or understanding Anna is threatened when the unannounced arrival of a foreign delegation brings a multitude of old fears bubbling back to the surface. Rated T to be safe.
1. The Art of Doing Business

A/N: Hey guys! So, if you visit my profile, you'll notice that I haven't published anything in about a year, not entirely by choice (you spend three hours a day revising admissions essays and then tell me if you're up for writing some more-that was my summer), but I have a deep relationship with _Frozen_ at the minute and there were some things I wanted to try. Plus I'm hoping I'm going to have a little bit more time to write this semester than I did spring semester of last year.

P.S. If any of you were reading _The Monster Under the Bed_, I promise I haven't forgotten about you and, believe it or not, I do still plan on finishing it. It's just been an unbelievably busy year. If any of you were reading _The Thing with Feathers_, I would love to finish it, but it's all a bit up in the air at the moment.

* * *

There is a fine art to carrying on a productive conversation with oneself and Elsa has had years to master it. She is used to being able to hold these conversations in the privacy of her bedroom behind a locked door, however. She was unprepared for the stares she received as she walked from the dining room to her study going on about the crop trade. Today it's diplomacy with Corona. Elsa had briefly met the kingdom's crown princess at her coronation, before things had taken a turn for the worse, and she'd liked her. They had a lot in common. Of course, the fact that neither of them seem to have much experience interacting with, well, anyone is sure to take its toll on the relationship between their kingdoms in the future. There is a potential for so many misunderstandings bred from a lack of ability to communicate on both ends.

"Your Majesty." The voice of one of the stewards pulls Elsa from her thoughts. He's young, in his twenties, and carries an air of nervousness about him. Martin, she thinks his name is. She knows he's been working at the castle for several years, because she remembers seeing him return with the rest of the staff after her parents' funeral out her bedroom window, but it isn't exactly like she'd been on speaking terms with anyone up until about three weeks ago. "You have… visitors." He's panting like he's been running.

"Who?" she asks, her stomach beginning to drop. There are no meetings scheduled for today. She checked just before she left for breakfast this morning. She'd been relieved. One does not simply go from being a recluse one day to an extrovert the next, and people still terrify her, even the servants, even her sister, but, most of all, strangers. She feels the familiar sensation of frost beginning to lace itself along her knuckles and clasps her hands behind her back.

"It's a… delegation… from the Southern… Isles."

"Catch your breath, Martin," she replies, taking care to keep her voice level. "A delegation from the Southern Isles?"

"Yes, ma'am," he answers, pausing to take a few deep breaths. "Four of the Princes."

"Not the one we had the pleasure of meeting a few weeks back, I hope." She says bitterly.

"No, ma'am," the boy says. "Princes Ivar, Tomas, Rolf, and… Anton."

Truth be told, this development is not entirely unexpected. Elsa had assumed that King Henrik started putting together a delegation as soon as his youngest son returned from Arendelle in shackles. She'd been expecting some sort of communique was all. She hadn't expected four princes to simply show up one day, catching her on, of all days, a day when she wasn't expecting to have to meet with anyone in person, hasn't prepared herself mentally for the rigors of social interaction.

"Very well," she nodds. There is nothing to be done about it now. The Princes are here and she will have to face them. "Where are they."

"The drawing room," the boy answers. He seems to have calmed down. It occurrs to Elsa that he'd probably been expected her to be angry with him, like any part of this is his fault. Either that or he'd expected her to freeze him where he stands. She has to admit that the latter isn't an altogether unwarranted fear.

She nods once more. "Fetch my crown and meet me outside the door." She has taken up the habit of leaving her crown in its case on the desk in her study and wearing it only when she is receiving guests or making a public appearance. Anna once commented that it was too beautiful to be in a box all day, but _she_ has never tried on the thing. Elsa's head is a apparently size larger than her mother's was.

Speaking of Anna, the Princess is approaching her now. Out of habit, the Queen glances quickly down the hallway behind her to check that she is not trailing frost and is pleased to find that the damage seems to have restricted itself to her knuckled.

"Good morning." It's the sort of polite, impersonal greeting that Elsa had perfected for whenever their paths crossed for the past thirteen years. Anna is having none of it. Whatever she's on her way to do, she abandons and, instead, turns on her heel to walk beside her sister.

"Where are you going?"

"The drawing room," Elsa replies shortly.

"And what are you going to do in the drawing room?"

The Queen sighs. "I have a meeting."

"With who?" Anna wrinkles her eyebrows. "I thought there was nothing on the agenda today."

Elsa stops to look at her sister. "How did you know that?"

"Hello?" Anna replies, her voice tinged with annoyance. "I get the schedule too. I _am_ the heir presumptive now. I'm not completely unimportant."

"Oh, Anna," Elsa reaches for her sister's shoulder, only to ball her hand into a fist halfway and drop it back to her side when she catches a glimpse of the frost still woven like a spider web across her knuckles. "You know that's not what I was implying."

Anna nods. "I know." She starts walking again. "So who are we meeting with?"

"We?" Elsa repeats, raising her eyebrows. "Since when do you attend meetings?"

"Since I've barely seen you in two days."

They are approaching the drawing room now. Elsa can already spot the steward leaning against a wall to catch his breath again, the box containing the crown in hand.

"This will hardly be a time for sisterly bonding," Elsa replies. "I'm receiving the Princes of the Southern Isles. They've come to—"

"What?" Anna interrupts. Elsa becomes aware that she's stopped in her tracks.

"The Princes of the Southern Isles," she repeats. "Four of them, apparently. I imagine they've come to smooth over what happened after the coronation." They haven't spoken much about the coronation and the events that had followed since Hans' ship left port. Actually, they haven't spoken at all about it. It's a sensitive subject, Elsa knows, and she's been at a loss for how to bring it up, or even if her sister wants it brought up. It seems that now there is no choice. It had to happen eventually. They can't go on ignoring it forever. Elsa supposes that now is as good a time as any.

"And you're going to talk to them?"

"Of course," Elsa answers. "We can't allow this to come between our kingdoms. We've already lost Weselton as a trade partner." A bit of a rash decision on her part, in hindsight. "I imagine there will be others who will want to cut off ties with us once word of… well, once word of me gets back."

"Hans tried to kill us!" Anna argues.

"As I am well aware," she nods, bending down in front of the steward, allowing him to slip the crown into her hair. "Are you still coming? Thank you, Martin."

"No," Anna replies, crossing her arms with finality.

"Very well." Elsa turns and places her hands on the doorknobs of the drawing room gathering her composure, taming her fear. _Don't feel_, she repeats the familiar mantra in her head. She's learned in the past few weeks that it's impossible to abandon the mindset entirely. There are times when she has to simply be the Queen. Feelings come second.

"And his name is Marcus."

* * *

The Princes of the Southern Isles are conversing quietly around the fire, but they sink into low bows as Elsa enters. Murmurs of "Your Majesty" trickle through the room. It's strange, she reflects, to command this kind of respect at the tender age of twenty-one. She still hasn't grown used to it.

"Gentlemen," she greets as she approaches the group.

"Queen Elsa," one of the men takes a step forward. "Prince Ivar of the Southern Isles. Allow me to introduce my brothers, Prince Erlend, Prince Rolf, and Prince Anton." There is certainly a family resemblance, Elsa realizes as her eyes trail over their features. That is, there is really no question about the fact that these men are Hans' brothers. Prince Ivar has the same long nose and high cheekbones, Prince Rolf, the thin-lipped smile and wide green eyes, Prince Erlend, the same defined chin, and Prince Anton, the thick red-brown hair and sideburns.

"We'd like to take this moment to extend our deepest apologies for our brother's behavior," Prince Anton steps forward eagerly. He looks the youngest, younger than Elsa, it seems. "He is… being dealt with."

"Hans has been stripped of his princely title and duties," Prince Ivar explains, glancing over at his brother. Elsa knows he's the oldest of the four, because she was required to memorize the first three heirs to the throne in every kingdom Arendelle has dealings with, and he is the second in line. "He is currently confined to his chambers in the castle awaiting punishment. You understand why traditional imprisonment is not on the table."

"I do," Elsa agrees. "But you understand that we in Arendelle expect to see some definitive repercussions for Hans' actions. We can't give the impression that one can come into our kingdom, be treated as a guest, attempt to assassinate our entire royal family, and then return to one's own kingdom under only the threat of house arrest."

"We are agreed on that count," Prince Ivar replies. "The sanctions for Hans will be severe. Our father, the King, and Prince Nikolai are working out the specifics as we speak. You have my word."

Elsa nods in approval. Given recent events, she isn't exactly placing much trust in anyone's word at the moment, but she thinks it best not to bring that up. "We will talk retribution later. As you arrived unannounced, I have other matters to attend to today, but I invite you all to join the Princess and myself for dinner at seven."

"It would be our pleasure," Prince Rolf speaks for the first time, folding into another low bow.

"Marcus will show you to your rooms," she adds before turning to the door. "Marcus!"

* * *

One thing Elsa learned almost immediately in her first three weeks of non-seclusion is that, in stark contrast to her own, Anna's door is almost always open. Today, however, that is not the case. Elsa raises a hand to the door and raps twice. Her breath catches in her throat. If Anna doesn't answer, can she simply burst in uninvited? As the Queen, she certainly can, but as Anna's older sister, and while their relationship is still so cautious? And what if she tries to turn the handle but the door is locked? How embarrassing will that be? Oh god, how many times has she put Anna in this very situation over the years?

Elsa is saved from counting by footsteps slowly approaching the other side of the door. "Who is it?"

"It's me, Anna. Open up."

A pause, "No, I'm not sure I will."

"Come on, Anna," Elsa protests. "I need to talk to you."

"How does it feel?"

"How does what feel?"

"Being the one on the outside." The words hit Elsa like a rampaging horse, but she knows they're true. She sighs.

"The difference is, Anna, I always wanted to open the door. I was trying to protect you." It's barely a whisper, and, at first, the Queen is not sure her sister even caught it, but a moment later, a she hears a low creak at the door slowly swuings open.

By the time Elsa pushes it wide enough to see into the room, Anna is halfway back to her bed. "How can I help you?" her sister asks dully. Elsa is, again, reminded powerfully of the years she spent in seclusion, speaking to Anna, when she had to, politely but distantly. She steps into the room and pushes the door shut behind her.

At first, she considers trying to make some sort of small talk, but she knows it would come off awkwardly, and Anna would probably see right through it anyway. No, best to get straight to the point. "I've invited the Princes to dinner. I need you to be there."

Anna looks up, a fury in her eyes that was foreign to Elsa. "No."

"Listen, I've told you, we need to preserve future dealings with them," the Queen attempts to explain. "We have to be civil, both of us." She sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. "Anna, what would you have me do? We can't just go to war over this."

"Why not?" The question surprises Elsa and she looks back up to meet her sister's eyes.

"Because I'm not sure anyone else would take our side."

"What do you mean, 'our side'?" Anna questions. "There are no sides. Just us and them."

"There are always sides in a war, Anna."

"Well then, why wouldn't they be? We're the victims here. We're the ones who were almost murdered."

Elsa chuckles bitterly at her sister's indignation. "Because, the neighboring kingdoms might not have minded so much if Hans had killed me." Anna's mouth falls open. "As far as they probably think, that outcome might have been for the best."

"What do you mean?" the Princess drops her voice to a whisper. "How could they think…?"

"Consider what the delegates saw," Elsa implores. "I attacked you, Hans, and the Duke of Weselton with ice at the coronation. I plunged Arendelle into an eternal winter that completely devastated our economy and threatened the lives of our people. I created a snow monster that nearly killed several men, including a foreign royal. I froze your heart. I was sentenced to death for treason, for your murder."

"But none of that was true," Anna protests.

"Yes it is," Elsa emits another bitter laugh. "I did every one of those things. Right down to killing you."

"But it was an accident," her sister argues. "Because you were scared."

"And the only evidence the foreign delegations have of that is my word, and how reliable do you think that seems after everything that's happened?" the Queen explains. Probably about as reliable as the word of Hans' brothers. "Imagine what they told their kingdoms when they returned. Anna, the world is not on my side right now. We need to cultivate any relationships we still have. We are not in a position to hold grudges. And besides, you're popular. A lot more than I am, at the moment. I need you to have a presence." Anna opens her mouth to respond, but seems to decide otherwise. "Listen, Anna," her sister continues. "The other Princes of the Southern Isles were not here. I have seen no evidence that any of them had an inkling of what Hans was planning. That's all I need to know to do business with them. Now, I need you to be at dinner tonight." She turns to go.

"Elsa, wait." Anna takes a deep breath. "I know… I know you're doing your best. In more ways than one."

The Queen offers up a small smile. "Thank you," she replies, not entirely sure how to respond. "I appreciate that."

* * *

A/N: Authors aren't lying when they say reviews are what keep them going. After class for five hours and then a seven-hour shift at work, a single constructive review can be the difference between working on the next chapter or watching Netflix.

See you all at the next update!


	2. Calm, Collected, Poised

"Glad you decided to join us," Elsa comments as she approaches the double doors of the dining room. Her sister is leaning against the doorframe, her calm exterior betrayed by her hands, which are wringing themselves furiously. Elsa can relate.

"I didn't exactly have a choice," Anna narrows her eyes.

"Still, I expected to have to send someone after you. I didn't think you'd come so…"

"Willingly?" Anna supplies. "Come on, would I do that to you?"

Elsa drops her eyes. It pains her to admit that she doesn't know. That she doesn't know her sister at all. "Are you ready to go in?" she asks, changing the subject.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Anna answers. "But you're not." She gesturs to the Queen's head.

"Oh," Elsa runs her hand across the top of her hair. "My crown. Yes, Marcus is bringing it."

"Oh, okay," Anna nods. They stand in silence for a moment before she speaks back up. "That's a beautiful dress."

"Thank you," Elsa replies, glancing down at the gown. "It was in my closet."

"Really? I thought you might have pulled it out of the garbage." They exchange a nervous laugh before falling back into the uncomfortable silence. The Queen hates how awkward her relationship with her sister has become. It should never have been like this. Her relationship with Anna should be the easiest, most stress-free relationship she has. On second thought—she mentally runs through a list of everyone she knows—it probably is. But easiest and easy by no means meant the same thing.

"Your Majesty." Elsa turns toward the voice. Marcus is standing behind her, holding out her crown. She bows to allows him to place it on her head before turning back to the Princess. She offers up what she hopes is a reassuring smile, but she suspects it must have come out as a grimace, because Anna merely drops her eyes.

"Listen," she says. "This will be hard for both of us."

"You seem fine," the Princess replies without looking up.

Elsa takes a deep breath. 'Seem' being the operative word. _Conceal, don't feel._ She's had a lot of practice. _Put on a show_. She's the Queen. She is calm, collected, poised. But she can't expect Anna to understand that. Her sister has always been able to express herself in any way she wants, in part because she is not expected to assume the throne and in part because she does not possess hazardous ice powers. Elsa sighs, "Are you ready?"

"Let's go," Anna replies firmly.

As soon as the doors begin to move, Elsa can hear the scrapping of chairs as the Princes hurry to stand. Drawing herself to full height she enters the dining room, Anna at her right. Careful to keep her pace leisurely yet purposeful—seriously, the things she has to think about—she makes her way to her designated seat at the opposite head of the table. To their credit, the Princes had had thought to leave the chair immediately to her right open for Anna.

"Prince Ivar, Prince Erlend, Prince Rolf, Prince Anton," Elsa nods to each man in turn. "Princess Anna of Arendelle." Out of the corner of her eye, she sees her sister sink into a curtsy. "Now, please, sit," she adds as she takes her own seat and waits for the others to do the same.

"So, which one of you is closest in age to Hans?" Anna asks out of nowhere when they are halfway through the cheese course. Elsa swallows the piece of Jarlsberg she is chewing and looks at her sister. Anna flashes her an innocent smile.

"Oh, um," Prince Ivar pauses with his fork midway to his mouth. "That would be Anton." He looks down the table at his brother, silently permitting him to answer in full.

"That's right," Prince Anton says. "I'm the twelfth brother. Hans and I are only a year apart."

"I see," Anna replies, wrinkling her eyebrows. "So the two of you are close?"

Anton hesitates. "Not particularly, no. Hans, well, he always sort of liked to do his own thing. I was always… always closer to Rolf and Erlend."

"So you didn't realize he was a homicidal maniac?"

"_Anna!_" Between horror and embarrassment, Elsa briefly wonders where her sister picked up such a phrase before realizing that Anna probably had just as much free time growing up as she had and is probably nearly as well read.

"No, it's okay," Ivar replies. "I knew we'd need to address this at some point. It seems absurd that none of Hans' twelve brothers had any idea what he was planning, right?"

"Just a little bit," Anna replies in a tone that tells Elsa quite clearly that she's holding back some sort of biting comment.

"Well, the first thing you have to remember is that most of us don't live in the same castle anymore," Rolf explains. "You have to remember that we all have lives outside of being princes. That does tend to happen when it's unlikely you'll ever assume the throne." He shoots her a self-deprecating smile. "Our only brothers who are in diplomacy fulltime are Ivar, here, and, of course, Nikolai."

"That's right," Anton adds. "I study botany, you see, and Erland is a physician, and Rolf is a talented violinist."

"Anyway," Rolf continues, "Hans still lives in the main castle with our parents, as do Nikolai and Anton, but the rest of us only pass through from time to time. For instance, I believe the last time I saw Hans was nearly a month before he departed for Arendelle, and that was only a brief exchange after one of my concerts, which he attended with our parents."

"The point my brother is trying to make," Erlend says, "Is that most of us didn't seen Hans as often as the two of you might see each other." Elsa cast a guilty glance in Anna's direction. "We didn't get to talking very much."

"Besides that," Anton says, "Hans didn't want much to do with us younger brothers in recent years. He was really much closer to Nikolai and Ivar. I thought he was just angry about the… well, the hell we put him through when we were younger."

"He _was _the youngest," Erlend interjects.

"But it appears now," Ivar continues, "That he probably just wanted to feel near the throne—the Crown Prince's closest confidante, if you will—and I'm sure he thought he could learn some useful governing tricks that way too. You know, make himself more appealing to the princesses he was trying to woo. Begging your pardon, Your Highness," he nods to Anna. "And prepare himself to be a king." He shakes his head with a sigh. "Anyway, Hans liked traveling to foreign nations as part of our delegation—I thought he just wanted to see the world, but we now know that was not the case—so his volunteering to attend your coronation was not at all out of the ordinary. He raised no suspicion prior to leaving."

"He's… he's done this before then?" Anna asks. Elsa can see her eyes widening. "Going to another kingdom to try to marry a princess."

"In hindsight, yes, it looks like he has a long history of that exact behavior," Ivar admits, finally setting down his fork, apparently abandoning the idea of finishing his slab of cheese. Elsa watches her sister drop her eyes and set down her own fork as well. "The communiques we received after Hans attended events in other kingdoms all stated that he was polite, charming, that he had taken special favor with one of the princesses, usually one directly in line for the throne, though we did not notice the pattern at the time. We never received any complaints regarding his behavior."

"We just thought he had a… strong interest in the ladies," Erlend chooses his words carefully. "We never imagined he was specifically trying to marry into a throne."

Anna nods, though Elsa was not sure whether she is still listening. Her eyes have taken on a glazed appearance and she looks dangerously near crying. "Very well," Elsa says, in an attempt to press past the awkwardness. Her father was adept at defusing tense situations. She sorely wishes she'd had the opportunity to learn from him, learn from observation rather than instruction. "Shall we meet tomorrow to discuss the future of our trading partnership?"

"Indeed, Your Majesty," Ivar answers. "We are grateful Arendelle is still willing to do business with us after the… incident."

"As long as I see no signs of treachery from any of you," Elsa replies, a smile ghosting across her face, "I believe we will have a very promising future."

"That's good to hear, Your Majesty," Rolf responds, returning the smile, as Anna shoots her another look of deepest betrayal, her eyes still clouded with unshed tears. They will have to talk later. Elsa stomach turns at the thought of another discussion with her sister, another discussion where Anna will be upset and Elsa will have no idea what to say, another discussion where feelings will come up and Elsa will be expected to reciprocate, despite the fact that she's spent years burying her emotions and is not entirely sure how to uncover them. Anna deserves a proper sister, she knows. She only wishes that was her.

"Your Majesty," Anton says. "I noticed your gardens from the window of my room this afternoon." A wave of relief rolled over the Queen at the change to such an innocent subject. "They are beautiful."

"Thank you," she replies. "Our mother used to tend them herself. Of course, I don't have much talent in that area." _Because until three weeks ago I barely remembered what a flower looked like_. "They've been managed by gardeners since her death."

"May she rest in peace," the Princes mutter, crossing themselves. Their etiquette really is impeccable, Elsa thinks.

"Perhaps my sister and I can take you all on a tour of the grounds tomorrow after our meeting," she suggests, watching Anna's entire body tense out of the corner of her eye. Yes, they will certainly have to talk. It kills Elsa to do this to her sister, but diplomacy is diplomacy, and Anna needs to learn about it sooner rather than later. Ideally, Anna would have learned these things alongside her sister when they were teenagers. Of course, circumstances dictated that Elsa be taught alone. Presumably, their father lacked the time to instruct them both separately, and, as a result, Anna's education had fallen by the wayside where foreign affairs are concerned.

"I'm sure that would be wonderful," Anton replies.

She glances at Marcus, buried in the far corner of the room, silently imploring him to work the tour into the next day's schedule. He gives a nearly imperceptible nod and goes right back to pretending to be invisible. _A steward's job is to know what his premier is thinking without being told_, her father had repeated to her. _If you find a good steward, hold onto him. They're not easy to come by_.

"Very well," she replies. "I'll have one of the stewards get back to you on the time."

"Of course," Ivar answers. "You have an agenda to work with, we understand. We were expecting it when we arrived unannounced."

_Then why did you do it_, Elsa wants to asked. Instead, she settles for a simple, "Good." They settle into silence before Erlend launches into a tale about his childhood. Elsa isn't sure where exactly it came from—the onset is quite sudden—but she's glad to be extended a break to recover from the exhaustion of conversation-making. Rolf and Anton gradually jump in, and all she has to do was laugh in the right places. She even notices, as she takes a sidelong glance at her sister that, despite herself, Anna is giggling. Of course it helps that a certain brother is mysteriously absent from their stories, but Elsa suspects that's by design more than coincidence.

* * *

Elsa had expected to be tasked with going to Anna again once the Princes retreated to their quarters for the evening, but she's barely been in her own chambers a minute when she hears a timid knock at the door. She knows who it was immediately. She recognizes that knock, hesitant from years of being ignored. It's not the businesslike knock of a steward or the respectfully hurried knock of a maid. "Come in!" she calls as she sinks into the bed to pull off her shoes.

Anna opens the door just enough to slip inside and closes it softly behind her. "Your timing is impeccable," Elsa remarks. "Two minutes ago, I wouldn't have been here."

Anna nods. "I know. I have a copy of the schedule, remember? They had you approving actions until eleven, and it's a four-minute walk from your study."

"Oh," Elsa replies softly.

"I think you already know what this is going to be about," Anna says. Elsa notes that she has not made any move to further enter the room. It's as if she's preparing for a fight, preparing to run.

"Yes, I believe so," she sighs. "The tour of the gardens?"

"Why would you include me?" Anna asks. "If you want to spend and unnecessary amount of time with them, fine! But why would you make me? You know how I feel about them being here."

Elsa takes a deep breath. "Anna, you need to learn how to handle these matters on your own. I told you, we can't afford to lose the Southern Isles as a trade partner. We have to be polite."

"_You _have to be polite," Anna's voice is scathing. "_You're_ the one they deal with. I had dinner with them. I showed I don't hate them, which, you know, isn't completely true, but I thought I was very convincing—"

"That's not enough, Anna," the older girl shakes her head. "You have to learn how to interact with them. They may have dealings with you some day. You need to learn how to behave. This is something you should have been taught years ago. Unfortunately, circumstances being what they were…" There is no need to finish. The thirteen years of separation permanently hang between them in the air. It doesn't need voicing. Again.

"Why would they ever have dealings with me?" her sister argues. "Why would I ever be in a situation where I had to do business with the Southern Isles? It's not like they get ice from us. It's not like I'm involved in trade—"

"Because someday you will be Queen," Elsa snaps before she can stop herself. The fact that Anna will be the one to succeed her on the throne is not one she's ever voiced, but it's a reality she accepted long ago, after her father died and her own ascension to the throne became immanent. She takes another breath and frames her next sentence. "Because, if you outlive me, God willing, you will be Queen. Then you will understand."

"That's not true," Anna's reply is slow, like she's working out how Elsa can possibly have arrived at such a far-fetched conclusion. "No, your children will be before me in the line of succession."

"Anna…" The word is laced with desperation mingled with regret and resignation, and its implications echo through the room long after its sound dies away. Anna's face is contorted in confusion, but, unwilling to elaborate, Elsa watches until, after a minute or so, realization splashes across her sister's features. She drops her eyes, gripping the edge of her mattress. She watches as frost crept along the fabric, forming a web around her palms.

"Oh, Elsa."

Suddenly, her sister doesn't sound angry at all. The Queen squeezes her eyes shut, but she can hear the floorboards squeaking as Anna approaches the bed. She feels the mattress sink next to her.

"Elsa, you'll have a family."

"I don't think that's likely."

"Why? I mean," her sister pauses. "Sure you were kept out of the public eye for years, but so was I, and anyway, you're back now, and you're the most desirable maiden in the land. Suitors will be climbing over each other for your hand."

Anna makes it sound so simple that Elsa can't help but smile. She looks so resolute, the older girl thinks as she brings her eyes back up to meet the Princess', as if that settles the matter.

"Anna, it's not that easy."

"Yes it is," her sister insists. "Meet a guy, court him for at least a year—that part's really important, as we've learned… well, as I've learned—then get engaged, then get married. You'll get invited to tons of balls. You'll find someone."

"That's not what it's about." Elsa can't believe they are even having this conversation. There are much more pressing matters at hand than her love life and whether or not there will ever be such a thing. "Anna…" There it is again. That tone. Like she's pleading for her sister to figure it out herself, because she doesn't want to explain. But this time she knows she'll have to. It's too far a conceptual jump for any person to make. She'll just have to force it out. "Anna, I'm barely managing a relationship with you. How do you expect me to hold up one end of a romance?"

Anna shrugs. "You'll learn. Just like I am."

"It's not the same."

"Why not?"

"Because," Elsa sighs and squeezes her eyes shut. She can feel the mattress cooling beneath her, hardening. She'll have to have one of the stewards bring in another one from a different bedroom before she goes to sleep. _Admit it_, she tells herself, _just admit it._ "Because you know how to interact with people. You grew up with friends, even if they were just members of the staff. You aren't starting from scratch. Anna, the only people I spoke to for the better part of my life were our parents."

"It'll get better though," Anna repliea, and Elsa enviea the certainty in her voice. "Oh, and Elsa, you want to know how to manage a relationship? Just talk to me." She shrugs. "We're sisters. It's not supposed to be hard." She pushes herself off the mattress and, after murmuring a goodnight, exits the room, pulling the door shut behind her, and leaving her older sister to question how she'd come so close to the point and yet, missed it entirely.

* * *

A/N: Hey guys! Thank you for all your reviews on the first chapter. I always look forward to reading them. Hopefully you all enjoyed this chapter as much as you seemed to like the last one. I was glad to see a couple of people say that they thought everyone seemed in character, because excessive out-of-character-ness is one of my major pet peeves, so I work really hard at that. Anayway, I look forward to reading your reviews again and hopefully I'll see everyone at the next update!


	3. Standing Up

It is only now occurring to Elsa that it may not have been the brightest idea to offer a garden tour to a botanist. In fact, the very idea of leading said tour was been ill-conceived. They're ambling down a path lined with revebjelles and vivendels, the Queen in the lead, Anna trotting along beside her, but Prince Anton is doing most of the talking. It became clear after mere minutes that the only commentary Elsa was be able to provide was to occasionally point out a bush under which she'd hid from the nanny at the age of four or a tree from which she'd fallen at seven.

"I apologize for my abruptness, but I must dismiss myself to draft a letter to the King," Prince Ivar announces as they approach the castle.

"That's quite alright," Elsa replies with a wave of her hand. She's hardly disappointed. They've been in the gardens for nearly an hour-and-a-half, and she is beginning to feel her skin burn. She can count on one hand the number of times she's been out in the sun in the past thirteen years. Four of them have been in the past three weeks. "You're here to do business, after all."

"Thank you for understanding," he nods to her as he makes his way back to the castle.

"Your Majesty, I saw some _Trifolium montanum_ over there that seem to be absolutely thriving. Do you mind…? I haven't had much luck with them, myself."

"Of course," Elsa replies, wondering what exactly that is and if it's something that's supposed to be growing in the garden, as Prince Anton hurries back down the path, nearly hitting a bench in the process. The Queen presses her lips together to prevent any laughter from escaping. She sees Anna bring a hand to her mouth to do the same. To her left, Rolf and Erlend are rolling their eyes.

"He does get worked up about plants," Rolf comments, his gaze following his retreating brother.

"I'll go make sure he doesn't hurt himself," Erlend mutters, more to Rolf than anyone, Elsa suspects. "Please excuse me, Your Majesty." He declines his head at Elsa and Anna in turn and marches down the path in sweeping steps that cover the same ground in twice the amount of time his younger brother had with his frantic jog. "Honestly," she hears him mutter in exasperation.

Rolf is smiling and shaking his head. "Well, thank you for the tour, Your Majesty. Your Highness," he looked between the sisters.

"It was my pleasure," Elsa replies. "I only apologize that I couldn't be more informative. My lack of wildlife knowledge, you see…"

"No need," Rolf holds up a hand. "I daresay my brother was informative enough on his own. If I'm being honest, your stories were a welcome interlude to his utterly fascinating lecture on the life cycles of every plant known to man."

Anna giggles, but the Queen merely nods. "That's good to hear."

"Princess Anna," he turns to the younger girl. "It was a pleasure being in your company."

"Oh… thank you," Anna replies, taken aback. "Umm, you too." Elsa suppresses another laugh. That's her sister, always so eloquent.

"Shall I look forward to your proposals later today?" Elsa asks as the group proceeded toward the castle.

"Yes, Ivar seems to think we'll have them ready by then," Rolf answers.

"Wonderful, I'm sure you're looking forward to getting back to the Southern Isles."

"I am," Rolf seems to be choosing his words carefully, and it makes Elsa uncomfortable that she is not sure why. "But being here, well, it's like a vacation. Not a vacation, because I'm working, obviously—I'm taking this very seriously, you know." His words seem to be escaping too quickly for him now. Elsa is stunned at how his tone of voice has changed now that they've gotten off the subject of business. It's not the deep, commanding voice she's grown accustomed to in the past day. It's more expressive, carrying emotion that she realizes would be unbecoming of a Prince. She wonders fleetingly if she too slips into a professional tone without realizing it. "But to be somewhere away from home," he's saying, still trying to cover the slip. "I haven't traveled much; that's the downside of having so many brothers; you have to take turns. Well, it's nice." He ends with a grimace that tells Elsa very plainly that his words did not come out the way he wanted them to. She chooses to ignore the stumble, for his sake.

"And what of your job? You're a… violinist?"

"That's right," Rolf answers. "The orchestra will be alright. They'll find a temporary replacement."

"You're not at all concerned?"

"Well, it's not like they can just fire me," he points out. "I don't think my father would hear of it." He shook his head.

"Lunch will be served shortly," Elsa states abruptly. His mention of the King has jarred her from the surprising ease of their brief conversation back into the mindset of a sovereign. "You and your brothers are welcome to join us in the dining room or you can take it in your chambers if you need to work."

"Thank you," Rolf replies, slipping back into his deep professional tone of voice once again. "I will consult with my brothers and send word of our plans with one of the stewards."

"Excellent," she nods her approval and continues into the castle, Anna still at her side.

She stops once they are safely in the entrance hall with the door latched behind them. "So?" she raises her eyebrows.

"They _seem_ harmless enough," her sister admits. Elsa can tell by the way her eyebrows are drawn together that she is working something out in her head but decides to let it go. Who is she to demand to know what her sister is thinking, after all?

"So if they decide to come to lunch, you won't put up a fuss?"

Anna sighs loudly and, Elsa suspects, more for dramatic effect than anything. "No."

"Good," she replies. "That's all I ask."

As she turns up the stair toward her study, she hears Anna mutter something, but she decides to let that slide as well.

* * *

Lunch is usually a quiet affair in the castle. Elsa and Anna eat together, which Elsa enjoyed immensely at first. They reminisced about their childhoods in the days before the gates were closed, about sneaking out of bed to play and dirtying their dresses in the garden, but before long, they both ran out of stories. Lunch became a time of tension, the uneasy silence a stifling reminder of exactly how few experiences they shared. Elsa began to bring memos with her to the table in the hopes that appearing busy would resolve some of the awkwardness that had fallen over the meal, but the knowledge that they both see through that ploy mitigates any positive effect it might have had.

Today, the Queen leaves her work behind in her office. She can't bring it, with the knowledge that any of the Princes might show up. It would appear that she anticipated they would reject her invitation, that she lacked confidence. She can't risk it. Especially not with these particular Princes. Besides, she thinks, it's been over a week since she and Anna have even tried to make conversation over lunch. Maybe something's changed. Maybe if they give it one more try—

"Elsa." Anna is standing outside the dining room doors bouncing nervously on the balls of her feet. "They're in there."

"Ah," she nods, guilt gnawing away at the relief that is flood through her over not having to endure another silent meal. "I see."

"I didn't want to go in without you."

"Anna, you know you'll have to learn to entertain dignitaries on your own."

"Fine, I will. Just not these specific dignitaries."

Elsa sighs. "Fair enough."

"And I won't," Anna comments.

"Won't what?"

"I won't have to learn to entertain dignitaries on my own," the younger girl shrugs. "Because I'll never be the Queen."

Elsa could point out that the ability to socialize with foreign diplomats is a skill to be expected of any member of the royal family, whether directly in line for the throne or not, but as she's opening her mouth to do just that, the doors to the dining room are pushed open from the inside. She hears the familiar scraping of chairs as the Princes get to their feet.

"Thank you," she comments as she glides along the table, Anna at her side. "Please sit."

"Your Majesty, Prince Ivar asked us to give you his sincerest condolences," Prince Erlend says once she has taken her seat. "He wanted to join you for lunch, but there was too much work to be done. He offers his gratitude."

Elsa nods, picking up her knife and fork and evaluating her salmon. Fine, that's one less person to entertain, and maybe, with Ivar momentarily out of the picture, she'll be able to get a better handle on his brothers. She looks up when she hears Anna begin to speak. "Will your proposal be ready by this afternoon as planned?"

"Certainly, Your Highness," Erlend replies as the Queen stares at her in shock. "Will you be joining us for the negotiations?"

Anna glances at her sister before drawing her gaze back to the Prince. "Yes. Yes, I will."

Erlend nods once. It is a firm, decisive nod that suits his position. Elsa expects he picked it up from his father. "Right, as it seems you should be. Then, as always, Princess, we will look forward to your company."

Elsa looks at her sister imploringly, but her own question is answered with Anna's next one. "And, after we've reached an agreement, how long can we expect to enjoy your company?" Her voice is practically dripping in honey, but Elsa can hear the implication behind it, as can, she suspects, the Princes.

Erlend chuckles, looking between his brothers and then back to the Princess. "So eager to have us out of your hair already? We've only just arrived."

"There's no rush," Elsa reassures him, finding her sister's foot under the table and giving it a good firm jab with her own.

"For a journey the length of the Southern Isles to Arendelle, I believe a week is the customary length of stay," Anton informs his brother.

"That's right," Rolf replies, turning to face Erlend. "We can't leave too early. It would be perceived as rude." He lowers his voice. "People at home would talk more than they already do. If we arrived back so soon, it would appear we'd understayed our welcome, which would imply we had a reason to go."

"If we left as soon as we'd arrived, it would give even more cause to think…" Anton suddenly snaps his mouth shut, glancing sideways at Elsa. He attempts to shoot pointed looks at his brothers, but, Elsa notices, they are suddenly very intent on avoiding his eye. _He made a mistake_, she realized.

Anna notices as well. "To think what?" she asks sharply. Anton looks up at her in surprise. It seems to take him longer than any to realize his error, but Elsa can see his eyes widen, his mouth drop open in horror.

"It's nothing," he assures Anna once he regains his composure. "Domestic politics."

But Anna is having none of it. "To think what?" she repeats more loudly, as if he simply didn't hear her the first time.

"Really, it's nothing to be—"

"Then why did you look at the Queen?"

"They might think…" Anton begins, but then hesitates. He looks to his older brothers for guidance, but Erlend is taking extra care adjusting one of his cuffs, and Rolf is suddenly very interested in cutting his salmon into the smallest squares he can manage. "Well… excuse me, Your Majesty," he says, looking at Elsa and turning quite red, "but our people would take it as greater cause to think that you aren't," he pauses again, staring desperately at his plate, like if he studies it intently enough, he will disappear into it. Finally, he swallows and looks back up. "Aren't the proper Queen of Arendelle."

"What do you mean, not the proper Queen of Arendelle?!"

"Anna, it's alright," Elsa reaches across the table toward her sister, but she's already on her feet.

"My sister didn't mean to cause an eternal winter. She didn't mean to shoot ice at the Duke of Weselton. Why don't you try having ice powers for a while and see how you handle it?"

"Anna," Elsa's voice is desperate, pleading her sister to stop, to just sit back down and eat her salmon, but Anna ignores her. Anna is too worked up to notice the table top frosting over or the shards of ice shooting up around the Queen's chair.

"My sister has worked tirelessly since she returned home to right her mistakes. She is the best queen Arendelle's ever had, and no ice powers can change that."

"Forgive my brother, Your Highness," Erlend is speaking now, exuding calm in a way Elsa has been working toward for years. "But Her Majesty's ice powers are not to what he was referring." If he hoped that knowledge would calm the Princess down, he was sorely wrong.

"What then?" Anna voice is as icy as the wood of Elsa's chair.

"No," Elsa says firmly, holding up a hand. She too stands. "I think it's time for us to excuse ourselves." She glances over at her sister before continuing. "Please, by all means, finish your meals." With that, she turns and heads for the door, praying that Anna is following her.

* * *

"What could you have possibly been thinking!"

"I was protecting you!"

"I don't need you to protect me!"

"You mean like _I_ don't need you to protect _me_?"

Elsa isn't even completely certain they are out of earshot of the dining room when the yelling begins. Anna is likely to know, but Elsa is in no mood to ask her sister's opinion on anything at the moment.

"Anna, how could you just… how could you just…"

"Stand up for you?" Anna asks. "I don't know, maybe because you won't, and maybe because I'm your sister. And—and somebody had to."

"Well, it wasn't necessary," Elsa replies. "I didn't need standing up for."

"You could have fooled me," the younger girl says. "Elsa, you're the Queen. This entire kingdom is yours, and you can have them thrown out of it whenever you want. You don't have to try to suck up to them. They should be sucking up to you."

"Anna, no one is _sucking up_ to anyone. We're being civil. We're being civil so we can do business. So our kingdoms can have a relationship in the future."

"If being civil means letting them walk all over you."

"I may not be good at making public appearances," Elsa's voice becomes dangerously soft, but the intensity with which she is speaking compelled the Princess to listen. "And I may not always get the stewards' names right on the first try, and I may not have any idea how to talk to my sister, but if there's one thing I am very good at, it's doing business. I have been preparing for it for a long time." Elsa takes a step back and forces herself to breathe in an out. "If you ever accuse me of losing control over what's going on in this castle again, I better be locked in a cell." She brings her forefingers to her temples. "I was doing just fine until you had your outburst."

"He said you weren't the right person to be Queen," Anna voice is much softer now. The anger is gone.

"He said their people thought I wasn't the right person to be Queen," Elsa explains. "There's a difference. Prince Anton expressed no personal stance on the matter." _The one intelligent decision he made in that conversation_. "And I can't imagine that's an unpopular opinion right now, anyway, and we should expect it to come up again with other nations. I can't say I'd fault them for it, anyway."

"See, that's what I mean," Anna exclaims. "That's why you didn't fight back. Because you agreed with them."

"I didn't fight back because no one was fighting in the first place," the older girl replies. "And what I think doesn't matter, as long as I look and sound confident."

"It matters to me."

"This is hardly the time for that conversation," Elsa shakes her head. "This is not about me. It's about you learning how to control yourself. I know you thought what you were doing was right, but you have to learn the difference between a tactless but overall factual comment and an insult. This was definitely the former. Okay?"

Anna hesitates for a moment, but slowly she nods. "But I'm not apologizing."

"I'll do it for you."

"Fine."

"And, Anna, I think, given the circumstances, it would be best if you didn't join us in negotiations this afternoon."

"So it'll just be you against them?"

Elsa shakes her head. "It's not us versus them, Anna. We're working together. And I'll be fine." _Like I always am_.

* * *

A/N: So I'm a little worried about the characterization of that fight at the end, because we never really saw either sister angry in the movie, but I thought Anna seemed like someone who would get really worked up, whereas Elsa would get a handle on herself a lot more quickly.

I already had the next chapter written, so it will be up in the next few days-I like to stay a chapter ahead, so I'd like to get five written first-but there's a pretty big scene in four, so hopefully you guys will stick around, because I think it will be a good one.

Anyway, I only got a couple reviews last chapter, and I know more of you than that read it. If you have a minute, please do drop a review. They mean the world to me. Thank you for those of you who did take the time. I appreciate you.


	4. With Dignity

"Queen Elsa," Prince Ivar is saying as they shake hands. "I'm pleased our kingdoms will be able to work together."

"Likewise," Elsa finds herself replying. "My father considered the Southern Isles a valuable partner to Arendelle, and so do I." In honest, she can't wait to get out of the room. The sun has long set, and by the fourth hour of negotiations, she'd found herself wishing, despite her better judgment, that she hadn't forbid Anna from coming. At least she would have livened things up. There were a few laughs, sure, when Prince Erlend spilled his tea over a book Prince Anton was keeping apparently very important pressed flowers in, for instance, but the vast majority of the day consisted of Prince Ivar detailing the Southern Isles' deficits and excesses while everyone else gazed absently out the windows. Elsa is sure her own eyes had glazed over on more than one occasion.

Unfortunately, as much as she wants to retreat to her chambers and not see another person for the rest of the evening, she still has work to do. As the Princes gather their countless documents and prepare to return to their own quarters, she takes her leave on the balcony. It's cold outside now, she knows, but she's never really felt temperature the way most people do. It's refreshing to finally be out of the stifling office, to not be surrounded by people she continually feel the need to impress.

"Queen Elsa."

She knows her sigh of disappointment is audible as she turn around. Prince Rolf is standing halfway through the doorway holding a piece of paper. "Forgive me, you forgot to sign our trade order for lumber."

She reaches for the paper, and he rushes to meet her hand. "This is the same one we went over?" she clarifies. Taking the paper and scanning it for any signs that something might have been added after the fact. It's just the kind of trick she's been taught to expect from a nation on which Arendelle's relations are uncertain.

"Of course, Your Majesty," he replies, drawing his arms to his chest and rubbing his forearms. "It's a cold night."

"Everything appears to be in order," she comments,, ignoring his last statement and balancing the paper on the railing to sign. "But if I discover you've deceived me…"

"Understood," Rolf replies as he takes the document back, a hint of something Elsa can't quite place in his voice. "Well, good evening, then." He nods to her and begins to retreat toward the door.

"Wait," she calls. She sees him stop out of the corner of her eye. Everything about this is against her best judgment, but the curiosity has been biting at her since lunch. "About what happened this afternoon…"

"We meant it when we extended our apology," he answers quickly. "That comment was completely inappropriate—"

"Why don't they think me fit ruler?"

"What?"

"Why don't they think me a fit ruler? Your people." This is clearly been exactly the last question Rolf expects, because his eyes grow quite wide and his mouth drops open in a way that is very unbecoming of a prince. "You said it wasn't about the ice." The truth was, Elsa scoured her brain all day for anything else that might have happened since taking the throne to inspire feelings of her inadequacy, and she came up empty-handed. Since she ended the winter, her reign has been almost entirely uneventful.

"Don't worry," he assures her. "It's nothing you've done."

"Then what?"

"Are you sure—"

"Quite sure."

He is fidgeting with one of the tassels on his suit now and looking very much like he'd rather be anywhere else. "There was a… rumor… awhile back."

"I see," she replies. "What kind of rumor?"

"Well, a traveler brought it to our lands. He was telling this story in inns and pubs all over the countryside. By the time we got to the root of the rumor and our guards caught up with him, he was nearly into Corona. His story was about how, in Arendelle, the Princesses had been confined to the castle, not to be seen in years. Especially the older one," he nods to her. "He said the younger Princess could occasionally be spotted in the courtyard or attending a state function with her parents, but the older one had not been seen by anyone since the gates were closed. He said he thought he knew why. Where he came from, there was a story that nearly everyone believed. It explained…" he hesitates. Elsa merely stares at him, silently imploring him to continue. "He said the older Princess had very light blond hair, while the Queen had dark brown hair and the King and younger Princess had red. He said it explained why." He looks up at her expectantly, like she is already supposed to know where this is going. She doesn't.

"Please continue," she says, careful to keep her face impassive, to conceal her confusion.

He wrinkles his eyebrows and drops his gaze to the wood floor of the balcony. "The story goes that years ago, the King and Queen were… were having trouble… producing an heir. That they'd tried for years and they couldn't, and they _needed_ an heir because the King's only brother had died years ago. And the kingdom was beginning to talk, so they came up with a plan in secret. The Queen would… would find another man. And she would have his baby under the pretense that it belonged to the King, and the King and Queen would raise the child as their own and it—she… would eventually become Queen." He glances back to her face, gauging her expression, she guesses, making sure she isn't about to freeze him solid, before once again dropping his eyes. If he thinks she knows where he is going now, he's absolutely right. She feels ill. Her hand finds the railing of the balcony and she squeezes it to ground herself.

"And the plan worked. They found a mountain man who had very little contact with the city, so was unlikely to ever tell, and Queen gave birth to a daughter. They raised her to ascend to the throne, but then the plan hit a snag." He pauses to adjust his collar. He is loosening it, she realized, despite being cold only moments ago. "The Queen became pregnant once again, this time with the King's own child, and the birth of this second child put the King and Queen in an impossible situation. On the one hand, bypassing the older daughter and allowing the real heir to become Queen would require an admission that the King's virility had been in question and that the Queen had borne the illegitimate child of another man, but on the other hand, keeping the secret would deprive the younger daughter of her birthright. So they did what any ruler would do. They chose to keep the secret and the people's trust. Only another problem arose."

_Another?_ Elsa thinks weakly. She is now working very hard to maintain her composure, leaning on the railing for support and suddenly feeling very small under her crown. "As the older daughter became, well, older, it was becoming abundantly obvious that she possessed none of the King's features, that she looked nothing like him, and that some of her features seemed not to have come from either royal. Her hair was not darkening with age, the way the King and Queen had hoped it would. They became worried once again that the people would talk, so they restricted access to their daughters in the hopes that if no one saw the older Princess, if no one knew what she looked like, their secret would be saved. Of course, that didn't stop people from remembering that she had blond hair and a nose that didn't much resemble that of either parent." He looks up at her, his eyes pained. "Your Majesty, the people of the Southern Isles don't believe you're a fit ruler because they don't believe you're part of the royal bloodline at all. They believe the rightful heir to the throne is—"

"Princess Anna," Elsa finishes, and it comes out much shakier than she intends. "You said where this man was from, nearly everyone believed this tale?" The Prince nods solemnly. "Well?" she asks impatiently. "Where was he from then? Your kingdom does a lot of business with us. If our leadership was in question, I trust your father looked into it."

"Your Majesty," Rolf's voice is gentle but uncertain, and just as shaky as hers. "The man was from Arendelle."

"No," she murmurs, bracing herself heavily on the railing. _Stay upright. Be strong. Appear confident_. "No, he can't have been." Her years of instruction are going out the window now, as if in slow motion. Ice creeps along the railing, radiating out from her hand, jagged and foreboding. It's one thing for the people in a kingdom as distant as the Southern Isles to believe she has no real right to the throne, but for her own people to believe such as thing…

"Your Majesty, may I?" Rolf asks, holding out a hand.

"I'm perfectly capable, thank you," she snaps, easing herself to the floor of the balcony. _Dignity. At least go down with a shred of dignity._ Better to merely sit down than to collapse in front of a Prince. "But they know now don't they?" She asks. "They know about my powers. They know that's why I was kept in seclusion, why my hair is this color."

Rolf sighs. He looks pained, like telling her these things causes him intense physical agony. "Your Majesty, that discovery only strengthened their position. You see, it's clear to everyone that neither of your parents had powers of any sort. People are wondering where you got them, and this mysterious mountain man is a very attractive explanation. And I afraid no one, not even you, can be sure why your hair is so light. Your sister's hair turned an unnatural white when she was frozen. Yours is a completely natural light blond. Besides, even if the ice powers do explain the hair, what's to explain the ice powers?"

"I don't know," Elsa answers, now sounding completely desperate in a way that she iwas sure would have made her father cringe. "Sometimes these things just happen. I don't know." _Don't cry. You're already sitting on the ground. At least don't cry._

"You know how people love scandal. It doesn't matter," the Prince says, placing a hand on her back. She flinches away. "I'm sorry," he added quickly.

"You just surprised me," she replies with a wave of her hand, masking her surprise that, even as the balcony floor ices over under him, he is willing to touch her, to try to comfort her. _Why isn't he running away? Doesn't he know how dangerous she can be when she's _feeling_?_ Slowly, she looks up at the Prince. "What about you? Do you believe any of this?"

"I'm just telling you what people say," he replies.

* * *

Elsa can't remember the portraits lining the gallery ever appearing so disapproving. Not when she and Anna came here to play when they were supposed to be in bed. Not when she rushed through the room on her way out of the castle after the coronation. She drops her eyes to the floor and picks up her skirts so they won't stick to the trail of ice she is leaving behind. She quickens her pace.

Elsa has only been in the room off the gallery once, with her mother. She was, maybe, seven at the time. _These are all of the past kings and queens of Arendelle, Elsa_, she'd explained, kneeling down and scooping her daughter into her arms. _This is your legacy_.

_Was it, though?_

She pushes through the door. Portraits line the walls of this room as well, but they're situated in orderly rows, their subjects all striking the same nervous pose, shoulders uncomfortably high, orb and scepter in hand. Coronation day is hard for everyone, Elsa is sure, but somehow—her eyes are drawn to an empty space on the far wall—she is positive she will look tenser in her portrait than every other king and queen combined. Even at a glance, she can tell she will be the room's first blond inhabitant. She moves closer to her father's portrait.

The more she studies it, the more obvious it becomes that she's inherited none of his features. His long prominent nose and firm jawline throw her own smooth features into sharp relief.

But her mother's features were softer.

She grabs her skirts and hurries from the room into the hallway. She follows it until she comes to the bend. The portrait has haunted her for years. On the left, her father manifests the statuesque posture displayed in all of his portraits. On his arm, her mother gives off a much more relaxed appearance, the hand fisted at her side the only indication that she isn't merely—Elsa smirks half-heartedly—enjoying a garden party.

She stands so close that her nose was nearly touching the canvas, studying the curve of her father's eyebrows, her mother's chin, bringing her hand to her own face as if trying to reassemble herself from her parents' features. She has her mother's eyes, she realizes, her mother's eyebrows, her mother's thin-lipped smile and rounded ears. But her nose… Rolf was right about her nose. It is much shorted than either of her parents', or Anna's, for that matter. It's shorter, wider, flatter, and more turned up. She does not have the sharp chin that seems to be characteristic of her immediate relatives either. The longer she studies the image, the more inconsistencies she discovers. Her cheekbones are higher and more prominent, her face is rounder, her mouth is lower-set than anyone else's in her family.

Her eyes are threatening tears again and she screws them shut. She leans toward the wall until her forehead meet the picture frame. She is tired. She is so tired. She'll deal with this, with these _feelings_, tomorrow.

"What are you doing?"

She tenses, visibly, she guesses, because Anna's next words are, "Elsa? Are you okay?"

"What are you doing here?" she asks without looking up.

"I was getting a snack," Anna replies, and Elsa can almost hear the shrug in her voice. "I do that sometimes. But then I saw the ice trail, so I followed it."

Elsa sighs and forces herself to look at her sister, to look at Anna, who has her father's eyes, her mother's chin and cheekbones, her father's lips, Anna, who is so clearly the child of both their parents it is almost painful.

"Are you crying?"

Elsa realizes too late that, in opening her eyes, she allowed a tear to escape. She can feel it crystalize as it rolls down her face. "No." She wiped it away furiously.

"Elsa, what's wrong."

"Nothing," the Queen replies, wrenching her eyes away. "I'm fine."

"Did something happen during negotiations?" Anna asks, her voice beginning to escalate in volume. "What did the Princes do?

"Nothing, absolutely nothing," she reassures her sister quickly. She pauses, takes a breath. "Do you think I resemble Father at all?"

"What?"

"You heard me correctly."

"I don't know," Ann shrugs. "Why?"

"Anna please," Elsa turns back to the portrait. "Look at us. Look at us next to each other, and tell me if you think there's a resemblance."

"Hmm," Anna presses her lips together and wrinkles her eyebrows in thought. Elsa can see her sister's eyes, shadowed with concern, move back and forth between her face and the image of their father. "You both have a crown," she says slowly.

Elsa's shoulders sag. "Is that all?"

"Elsa, what's this about?"

"It's nothing."

"_Elsa_, what's this about?"

"I'm not sure you should know."

"_Elsa_." Anna pleads. "_Did_ something happen during the negotiations?" She repeats the question, but her tone of voice is completely different now, concerned rather than threatening, no longer directed at the Princes, but at the Queen.

"No—well, yes—no." Elsa sighs. Anna will probably find out, she reasons. Now that the gates are open, it's really only a matter of time until she hears something. "It turns out there's a rumor."

"Elsa, if it's about your powers, I already told you—"

"It's not."

"Oh," Anna replies, confused. "Well, what's it about then."

"It turns out," Elsa answers, turning her back to her sister because she can feel another tear sliding along the bottom of her eyelid, threatening to escape. "Apparently, it is popular opinion that I am not the rightful heir to the throne."

"What?" She can hear her sister's incredulousness. "Who else would it be?"

"You."

"But…" Anna stutters, and Elsa can tell this is coming as just as much of a shock to her. "But how? You're the oldest."

"General consensus seems to be that I am not part of the royal bloodline," her voice is thin and halting and cracks on the last word. The tear slips down her cheek. "The _people_ think that I am not really Father's child." It is barely a whisper, and Elsa is surprised she managed it at all. "And they think the gates were closed because I didn't look enough like him anymore."

There is a moment of silence during which Elsa guesses her sister is lost for words. Then, finally, "Elsa, you know that's not true."

"Do I?" Tears stream down her face now, burning rivers into her skin, crystalizing before they hit the ground. If Anna can't hear it in her sister's voice, she can certainly hear them shattering like tiny pieces of hail against the floor.

"No, of course not," Anna replies. "Mother would never, ever do that. They _loved_ each other."

"What if they couldn't produce an heir," Elsa counters. "And people were starting to worry, and one of their advisors said, what if we find someone else for the Queen?"

"They wouldn't," Anna answers, and Elsa once again envies her sister's certainty, her complete and utter faith in their parents. Elsa's faith began to wane long ago. "And besides, we know the gates we closed because they wanted to hide your powers."

"That doesn't make the rest of the rest of the story untrue." She rubs her eyes determinedly, as if willing the tears to stop will make it so.

"But it doesn't make it true either," Anna argues.

"And that's another thing," Elsa continues, Anna's response flying over her head. "Where exactly did those powers come from? It's not like anyone else in the family has them."

"I don't know," Anna's voice grows frustrated. "Don't these things just, I don't know, happen?"

Elsa lets out a bitter laugh that comes out more as a bark. She flinches at the harshness of the sound. "That's what Mother and Father told me."

"Maybe because it's true."

"Then explain to me why Father and I look absolutely nothing alike," she whirls around, loose tears flying from her cheeks and crashing against the walls with tiny tinkling sounds. "Explain why I have features no one else in this family has."

"I don't know, Elsa, but I knew our parents. They wouldn't do that."

"You may have known are parents, but you have no knowledge of politics," Elsa replies softly, her fatigue beginning to get the better of her. "I would have done it."

"I don't believe that."

"You've never been the Queen," she sighs. "When you have the weight of a kingdom on your shoulders, sometimes you make… choices."

"Like doing business with the Southern Isles?" Anna asks, and her voice suddenly sounds smaller, younger.

"Exactly like that." Elsa smiles weakly, wiping away another tear with much less intensity than she had been. "When you are the Queen, you will understand."

"If." Anna reminds her.

"Maybe it's your birthright."

"It's not." Anna replies resolutely. "It's yours. Where did you even hear this anyway?"

"Prince Rolf told me," Elsa answers. "But I don't see what that has to do with—"

"And you believed him?" Anna raises her eyebrows. "Just like that? He could have just been saying that to throw you off your game. This could all be some ploy—"

"Anna, please," Elsa holds up a hand. "First of all, I think if that had been his intention, he would have told me before I'd signed all the papers. Second, he didn't want to tell me at all." She lets out another bitter bark of a laugh. "I practically dragged it out of him. You can't mistrust the Princes just because of who their brother is. They don't mistrust you because of me."

"That's different," Anna argues. "And you know it. And why can't I. You mistrust everyone."

s "Only to a point. Not so much that it interferes with my judgment."

"Really." the Princess place her hands on her hips. "Any reason you're so willing to trust them now."

"Because he wasn't lying," Elsa insists. "I would have known."

Anna smirks. "Elsa, I have lied to you at least… six times in the past two weeks. Like when I told you I was going down to the docks but I really went with Kristoff to—well, what we were doing doesn't really matter. It's not like it was—never mind. The point is you can never tell."

"He wasn't lying," the Queen repeats resolutely. "The look on his face when… when he told me. I think he believes it. Maybe they all do."

"I don't believe it," Anna replies. "And you shouldn't either. Who cares what some stupid Princes think anyway. Good judgment doesn't run in their family." She draws Elsa into a hug she is not expecting. She stiffens, her hand ball into fists, and before she can think, she's pulling away. "I'm sorry," Anna exclaims, jumping back. "I didn't mean—I mean—that's not what—sorry."

Elsa shook her head. "_I'm_ sorry." She hesitates. "I'm just not used to it."

"To what?"

Elsa drops her eyes once more, hoping it was dark enough that her sister can't see her cheeks reddening in embarrassment. "Being touched."

* * *

A/N: Woo, family drama! First off, let me just say that you guys have no idea how long I had to spend staring at screencaps of the royal family to write that second scene. Seriously, it was like, an hour.

So, this rumor wasn't in the original plans for this story. I actually came up with it as a head canon after I posted the first chapter and decided to include it as I was writing the third, but people would have had theories about why the gates were closed, and I figured this was a plausible one, because there are records of that sort of thing happening in history and Elsa really doesn't look like the King at all. Even then, people would have noticed that children generally had the same hair color as one of their parents, or at least one of their relatives, and if no one in the royal family had ever had light hair and all of a sudden the Princess was born with hair so blond it was almost white, I'm sure people would have wondered about that. But, anyway, I figured it would make a nice B-plot, and it would keep Elsa occupied until I drop the second bombshell on her later on.

So that's chapter four. Drop me a review if you have a minute. Let me know what you think of this new development. I'll see you next update!


	5. No Matter What

It is the longest night Elsa has ever experienced, save for the night before the coronation and the night she learned her parents had died. She will never be sure exactly how long she lays in bed staring up at the newly-formed icicles dangling from the navy blue canopy, at the snow falling in flurries to the frosted floor before she pushes her quilt aside, dresses in the dark, and sets off for her study.

Her path from the study through the castle to her chambers is still emblazoned on the wood in ice, she notes as she moves silently down the halls. She doesn't have the energy to thaw it out right now. She left her room looking like the inside of an igloo, after all.

The study looks exactly the way she left it. She doesn't know why she expects anything else. Her father established a rule that the study was to remained untouched by the maid and she opted to leave it in place. Still, the papers she knocked off her desk in the haste to leave the study lying on the ground, the chairs still pulled up around the coffee table shock her.

She kneels to gather the spilled memos. She planned to finished reading them last night. Of course, she was in no way prepared to concentrate on work by the time Prince Rolf, after one last devastated look at her, followed his brothers from the room. She takes a seat in the chair that fit her father fine, but somehow seems much too big for her and squares the papers on her desk. _Move past it._ She struggles to push her rapidly arising questions from her mind as she bends over the first page.

There is a knock at the door. Elsa looks up. She isn't sure how many times she's read the same line over again, but she only made it through nearly a page, and the sun is up now.

"Who is it?"

"It's me. Open up."

"It's not locked."

Anna bursts through the door, still tying one of her braids in place. Elsa raises her eyebrows. "Can I help you?"

"Good morning to you too," her sister grumbles. "They're panicking in the kitchen," she adds conversationally.

"What happened?" Elsa asks, setting down the paper at once and reaching for her cape, hanging over the back of the chair.

"You weren't in your room," Anna replies. "And the chef wants to know if the Princes are coming to breakfast. Actually, at this point, everyone kind of wants to know if _you're_ coming to breakfast."

"What time is it?" she asks, furrowing her eyebrows. On her father's request, there is no clock in the study. He often worked through most of the night and discovered that if he didn't know how late he'd been up and how little sleep he'd gotten, he found it easier to rise the next morning. The same is not true for Elsa. She hates never knowing exactly what time it was, using the sun and whether she's hungry as her only points of reference. It makes her feel disconnected, and she's felt quite enough of that in her life already. She's been meaning to ask Kai to procure a clock for the room, but somehow she always seems to forget when he turns up.

"Half past ten," Anna answers.

"What?" Elsa is standing up and pulling the cape over her shoulders before the word even completely leaves her mouth. "Why are you just now looking for me?" She doesn't meant it as a personal affront to Anna, whom, she was sure, just woke up, but in her irritation, the question comes out harsher than she intendeds.

"Well, excuse me," Anna rolls her eyes. "I just found out you were missing about ten minutes ago. But I think the stewards have been looking for you for hours. Kai said they already searched the entire North Wing."

"And no one thought to look in my study?"

"I guess not," the Princess replies. "Apparently, when you weren't in your room, everyone expected you to be in the library, and then they checked the stables for some reason." She shrugs. "I don't know."

"Unbelievable," she mutters, shaking her head and striding to the door.

"Elsa, wait," Anna calls, hopping off the chair and hurrying out of the room after her. "Are you sure you're okay. I mean, do you really want to see them?"

_No_, Elsa wants to reply. _No, I don't want to see much of anyone_. "I have to see them," she answers instead. "They're our guests."

"That doesn't mean they can't eat breakfast in their quarters," Anna points out, now trotting along the hallway beside her. "They have a table in there, you know."

"We just signed a contract with them," the Queen adds. "We have to show our appreciation."

"Can't we just send a gift basket?"

"Anna, please."

"But—"

"No, Anna." They are approaching the dining room doors now. Elsa can hear the murmur of conversation inside.

"But, Elsa—"

"_Anna_."

"Your crown."

"Oh." Elsa's hand is at the top of her head, running lightly over her hair, her crown conspicuously absent. It's back in the desk, she realizes. "Oh well," she sighs. It's breakfast, a casual meal. Surely the Princes won't think too much of it if she isn't dressed to the nines. She nods to Marcus, who is waiting to open the door, looking quite as mortified at the idea of forgetting the crown as she would be, were she not much too tired to care.

She's aware she must look like she's just been to hell and back. She barely ran a comb through her hair before weaving it into a braid this morning. She told herself she'd tuck it up into a bun later, but, she realizes now, she never did. The lack of sleep is surely showing in her face, her lack of makeup, her empty expression. She dressed in the dark, she remembers. She hopes her shoes match. She can see the Princes following her with their eyes. She can see Prince Rolf following her with his eyes, his brow pinched in concern.

"Please sit," she murmurs as she reached her chair.

* * *

Between Ivar's rehashing of six hours' worth of negotiation the day before, Anton nearly upturning his chair after Erlend pointed out the gardener tending the plants out the window, Anna and Rolf's nervous glances in her direction every fifteen second, Elsa is thrilled when breakfast came to an end.

She's barely pushed out her chair when Rolf turns to her. "Your Majesty, may I have a word?"

She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, collects her thoughts. It would look rude to deny his request. After all, what trouble will she have to go to for a quick word? "I suppose."

She turns and starts for the door through which she and Anna entered, the one that lets out closest to the study, and motions for him to follow. He nods quickly and raises a hand to his brothers, who are studying him with confusion evident on their faces as they prepare to leave through the other door. _Good_, Elsa thinks. _At least he hasn't told them_. If there is anything that strengthens Elsa trust in the man, it is that simple fact. It would have been so easy for him to run back to his brothers, to tell them what a broken mess she was so they could start devising a scheme to take advantage of her newly fragile emotional state. She'd fallen apart right in front of him, after all. She'd practically handed delivered the brothers an invitation to take advantage of her.

"May I have a word _alone?_" Rolf specifies when Anna makes to follow.

Elsa turns. She studies him for a moment, his eyes full of anxiety, darting back and forth between herself and Anna, who is staring back at him, incredulity written on her face. It's only Elsa's gratitude that he is keeping her secret that causes her to reply, "Very well," and turn on her heel, leaving her sister standing in the center of the room looking taken aback.

"So?" she asks, once the doors have closed safely behind them. "What is this about?"

"I just…" the Prince hesitates, looking around as if Ivar is nearby to help him. "I wanted to apologize. For what happened last night."

She presses her lips together. _Stay calm_. "I daresay it wasn't your fault," she answers in a voice that, she realizes, sounds oddly restrained. "I did insisted."

"Yeah, but—yes, but," he is opening his mouth and closing it repeatedly, like he knows the gist of what he wants to say, but coan't quite get the words out. "I'm still sorry. You shouldn't have found out like that. I didn't want to be the one to tell you. I mean I shouldn't have been."

"Better that I know."

"Yeah—yes, but…" he sighs. "You just shouldn't have found out from someone from another kingdom. I mean, I know how I'd feel." _Humiliated_ is the unspoken implication. Well, Elsa does feel humiliated, a bit, but mostly she just feels confused and conflicted and like she might be sick. "Your advisors should have told you." There is now something unsettling in his voice, something accusatory, though she has the inexplicable feeling that incompetence is not what her advisors are being accused of. The tone of his voice is darker than that, like he's angry on her behalf.

"What exactly are you implying?"

"They were wrong," he replies. "They were wrong not to tell you."

"You're saying they knew?"

"Of course they knew," he looks uncomfortable, aware that perhaps he's overstepping his bounds, and he's right, but he pushes on. "They're not in total disconnect. They have families in town, don't they?" He's absolutely right, of course. Kai has a wife and three children. If there was a popular rumor in town, especially if it was about the royal family, he would certainly know. And if there was a rumor about her, a rumor so widespread, so inflammatory, the Queen would certainly need to know so she could deal with it.

So why hasn't he told her?

"Your Majesty?"

"No," she shakes her head. "I was just thinking."

"I'm… I'm sorry to be there bearer of all this bad news," his eyebrows are raised, his mouth twisted into a sad half-smile. He really is sorry, she thinks. He is not doing this to toy with her. He just thinks she should know what was going on in her castle, in her kingdom. Why does she trust him? _Because he hadn't told his brothers what he'd seen._

Oh, right.

She nods and returns his smile, the first she's offered to a Prince of the Southern Isles. "Your intentions are good."

"Yes!" he exclaims, seemingly thrilled that she doesn't think he's some… some swindler, telling her these things to make her emotional, to take assets out from under her nose home to the Southern Isles. "I mean, sorry… but, yes, they are."

"Thank you for telling me."

"You're welcome," he replies. He is trying not to grin now, Elsa can tell, at battle with himself because it isn't appropriate for the situation, but he really is pleased with how well she is taking it. Well, with how well she appears to be taking it.

She turns to leave. "Your Majesty," he calls after her. She stops and turns her head in his direction. "I know it's not really my place, but you are alright? It's a lot to take in."

"It's not your place," she agrees. She sighs and looks away from him, up through one of the windows. She can see the sky. "And, yes, I'm fine."

"Oh, okay," he answers. "Good. I apologize for the intrusion. I just, umm…" he clears his throat. "I wanted to extend my… my services—no, that's not what—well… if you need anything, anything at all…" he trails off, reddening and rubbing the back of his neck.

"Thank you," she repeats, and she means it. She feels heat travelling to her face, can feel it reddening like the Princes, so she turns away from him at once and strides back toward the study.

* * *

It's by mere chance that Elsa meets the exact person she is wants to speak with on the way back to the study.

"Kai," she calls at his back as he hurries down the hallway toward the library. He stops in his tracks and whips around to face her.

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'd like a word," she jerks her head toward the doors of the study, now within sight. "It will only be a moment."

"Of course, ma'am."

She waits to him to follow her into the study and takes her place behind the desk, but does not sit down. "I have… received word of a rumor that has been going around Arendelle for quite some time now," she begins. "A rumor about me. Do you know anything about this?"

If Kai is nervous, he masks it well. She wouldn't have expected any less. The man is one of very few people who has known her all her life. "Would you be willing to elaborate, ma'am. Many rumor spread around Arendelle every year. We can't pay due attention to all of them."

"This rumor is about my parentage," she answers, her voice determinedly level. "My legitimacy. Does that sound familiar? It's something you would have paid attention to."

Kai sighs, his shoulders sag in defeat. "Yes, ma'am. Yes, there is a rumor like that."

"How long has this been going on?"

"We learned of it, that is to say, I learned of it when my daughter brought it home from school, about… twelve years ago," he answers. "There is good reason to think it has been going around longer. Probably since before the gates were closed."

"Twelve years," Elsa repeats in disbelief, her eyebrows shooting up. _Twelve years? Probably more?_ People have been questioning her legitimacy since she was—since before she was—nine? And Kai's daughter… Kai's daughter is nineteen now. Elsa remembers because she gave him the night off for her birthday just last week. That means she was seven when she asked him about it. A whole generation of children have grown up with this knowledge. A whole generation of children believe that they've just crowned a fraud. No wonder word's gotten to the Southern Isles. She wonders where else word has gotten to, how many of the Princes, Princesses, Dukes, and Earls who attended her coronation believed they were watching some hoax designed to deceive her people. How many of them believed she was complicit? _No wonder Hans had no qualms about killing her_.

"Why wasn't I informed of this?" Her careful restraint is beginning to break. She hears her voice quiver on the last few words.

"Your father was informed, ma'am," Kai replies. "His policy was to let the rumor run its course. He was confident that when you became Queen, you would not be challenged. People get tired of these sort of things, ma'am. Eventually they stop talking about them."

"Maybe they stopped talking about it," Elsa pinches the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. "But they still believe it. It's spread to other nations, Kai."

"Ma'am, by the time you assumed the throne, there was nothing you could do," he assures her. "What would knowing a month earlier have accomplished? How do you think your coronation would have gone if you'd known about this then?"

The only reason Elsa tolerates being spoken to in this manner was because it's Kai, Kai who replaced her mattress himself the first time she froze it solid in her sleep, who kept a fire going in her chambers for thirty-six straight hours any time the castle was about to receive visitors so her room would be thawed out in case someone wandered into it, Kai, her father's closest advisor, his confidante, who single-handedly kept Elsa's secret from the rest of the staff for thirteen years. Besides that, he's right.

"Kai…" she hesitates. Her voice sounds young, childlike almost, and frightened. "Is there any truth to it?"

Kai smiles indulgently. "Of course not, ma'am."

"Very well," she sits down and begins to leaf through the papers on her desk, still left from the previous evening. "That's all, thank you. Oh," she looks back up. "Can you secure a clock for this room?"

"Of course, ma'am," he replies as he ducks through the doorway.

* * *

For the first time in more than a day, the Queen leaves her study feeling like she's at least accomplished something. The memos were read through and signed, she had drafted a reply to a communique from Andalasia regarding a royal ball, and requisitioned some old records of a previous break in trade with Weselton to propose a new economic plan. She had managed to push thoughts of the rumor from her mind since her conversation with Kai but now that she's alone, once again walking through the darkness of the castle, they're rushing back and she is powerless to stop them.

She avoids the corridor where hang her parents' portrait—she isn't sure she can handle the image of her father, staring down at her with his prominent nose and defined chin—and instead takes a flight of stairs that lead her to the hallway that runs past the kitchens. _He told me she knows_, a woman's voice floats out from the staff dining quarters. _Is 'she' her? _Elsa wonders as she hurries past. _No, it can't be_. She has half a mind to go back and listen to the rest of the conversation to find out when someone calls her name.

Anna is following her, a large bowl of berries in hand. "What are you doing down here?"

"Oh," she replies. "I was just on my way back to my room."

"From the study?" Anna furrows her brow. "This isn't on the way."

"I wanted a change of scenery," she replies, and it comes out a bit more defensive than she intends.

"Uh huh," Anna says slowly in a tone that informs Elsa quite clearly that she doesn't believe a word.

There is a moment of silence where the sisters stare at each other and Anna pops a berry into her mouth. "Well…" Elsa finally says. "Goodnight."

"Wait," the Princess calls. "I'm coming."

"You're bring that with you?" Elsa eyes the bowl.

"Well, yeah," her sister replies as if it should have been obvious. "Why else would I have been down here."

"I thought maybe you were going to finish them in the kitchen."

Anna simply laughs, leaving Elsa to wonder exactly why that is so funny. "This should settle your mind," she begins once Anna falls quiet. "I spoke to Kai. There is definitely a rumor. Prince Rolf was telling the truth."

"So what are you going to do?" she asks. "Make a speech or something?"

"No," Elsa shakes her head. "I don't think that will do."

"Why not?" the Princess asks. "Just gather everyone in the courtyard and tell them they're being stupid and you're the rightful Queen. Berry?"

Elsa ignores the bowl Anna is holding out to her, her quickly building anxiety overshadowing the fact that she hasn't eaten all day. "How can I, in good conscience, tell them that when I don't even know if I believe it myself?"

"Of course you do," Anna replies.

"I don't—Anna, I don't think so."

"How can you say that?" Her sister looks scandalized, like she's just been personally insulted. Elsa looks away.

"I just… I don't know, there's something off."

"Like what?"

"Did you know that Kai has known about this rumor for twelve years?"

"Twelve…" Anna trails off. "Why didn't he tell you?"

"He said there was nothing I could do. He said these things work themselves out."

"He didn't think you'd want to know? You were going to find out sooner or later."

"See? It's off."

"Elsa, that doesn't mean anything," Anna reasons. "Maybe he just… wasn't thinking."

"He's been paid to think for this family for longer than I've been alive," Elsa replies flatly. "I don't think he just forgot to all of a sudden."

"But—" Anna begins, but seems to think better of it. Elsa hears her let out a long sigh beside her. "So what are you going to do?"

Elsa pauses. She made the decision earlier today really, right after her talk with Kai, but she hasn't verbalized it, and telling someone means holding herself to it. No going back. "I'm going to look into it."

"What?"

"I'm going to look back at the old records, see if there's any truth to these allegations."

"But, why? What will that do?"

"I need to know," Elsa replies resolutely. "I need to know if…" she makes to gesture to her head, but then realized she isn't wearing her crown, "if this…" she waves her hands instead instead at the area around her, the castle, Arendelle, "is really mine, or if it's yours."

Anna shakes her head. "I don't want it."

"You've never wanted to be Queen?" Elsa asks skeptically. "You've never wished you were more than just the spare?"

"No, I have," Anna admits, and Elsa is astonished to hear tears in her voice. "But not like this, not if it means you lose everything. How could I want that? You're my sister."

"What if I'm not?"

Anna stops in her tracks, and it takes Elsa a moment to realize she is no longer beside her. She stops and turns around, confused. Anna is standing a few feet back, her mouth hanging open, her eyes livid and brimming with angry tears. She closes the space between them in four steps and give Elsa a hard push that nearly causes her to stumble back against the wall. "Don't you ever say that again." Then, she pulls her into a hug and, though Elsa tries to jump back out of shock, Anna keeps a hold of her. This time, Elsa can tell, she's not letting go. "You're my sister," the Anna's voice is muffled by the velvet of her sister's dress, but Elsa can hear the emotion in it, the ferocity. "No matter what."

* * *

A/N: I feel like these chapters are getting longer and longer. Fun fact, this chapter was seven pages on Microsoft Word. The first one was four. Anyway, I did some hard thinking, because I got such a positive response from the last chapter and it seems like a plot that has so much more potential than just as a B-plot, and it's actually plottier (if that makes sense) than the plot I originally started out with, so I decided to switch things up to give this storyline more of a place in the sun. The moral of this story is that I took an extra day to get this chapter written because I had to re-outline the entire story on Monday. My original plot will still show up, it will just be in more of a supporting role, which is really for the best.

I got eleven reviews last chapter, guys. That's great. And they were all really constructive, too. I expected flames from at least one person, but so far, so good. I feel like the last chapter was always going to be hard to follow, but still review if you have time. See you next update!


	6. Propriety

It is Elsa's longtime habit of maintaining a low profile that causes her to summon Marcus rather than Kai. He seems nervous, as always, as he stands in front of her desk. She watches as he stares at the carpet, shuffles his feet.

"Marcus," she says finally. He immediately freezes and glances quickly up at her before returning his gaze to the floor.

"Ma'am?"

"I need a favor," she arranges the papers strewn across the desktop, trying to look nonchalant, like this is just another errand. She reaches for her letter opener a little too quickly and upturns a bottle of ink.

"Ma'am, let me—" Marcus says, quickly approaching the desk, eyes on the black pool of ink now creeping along the wood.

"It's fine Marcus," she replies quickly, replacing the bottle and moving her papers away from the growing puddle. It will stain, she thinks immediately. It will stain her father's desk. _Her_ desk, she reminds herself. _Or is it Anna's?_ She pushes the thought from her mind. "I need a favor."

"Anything, Ma'am."

"I need you to requisition some information. Do you know how to do that?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Marcus answers. "I think so."

She nods in approval. "Good. I need the visitors logs for the castle."

"What time frame, Ma'am?"

"The year immediately preceding my birth," she replies. She can feel a tremor building in her throat, but she is careful to keep her voice casual. "Can you do that?"

"Of course, Ma'am," he says, and she swears there's a glint of self-importance present in his tone of voice. "I'll go right away."

"Marcus," she calls as he takes a step toward the door. He has not waited to be dismissed, and under normal circumstances, maybe she would call that to his attention, but propriety is not at the forefront of her thoughts at the moment.

He stops, turns, realizes his mistake. She can see it in his face, that fear. She wonders if he would be so afraid if she didn't have powers, if she makes people nervous because she's the Queen or because she's the _Snow_ Queen. "Ma'am?"

"I need you to do this without assistance. From anyone," she leans forward, careful to avoid the puddle of ink. "Can you do that?" She studies his expression. There is confusion, curiosity, but no suspicion.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"In fact," she lowers her eyes back to the papers. The top right corner of the stack is now becoming saturated in black ink. Oh well, she thinks. It's nothing important anyway. "It would be better if you didn't tell anyone."

There is a pause, and for a moment, she really thinks he's about to ask why. Maybe he considers it, but finally he replies, "Understood, Ma'am."

"I'll expect those documents on my desk no later than tonight," she continues. "You're dismissed."

"Thank you, Ma'am," he hurries to the door and pulls it open.

"Oh, and Marcus," she calls one more time. She stands up and begins to remove books from the desktop. "Send someone in here to clean this up."

* * *

Elsa doesn't want to see Rolf. She feels vulnerable when she sees Rolf, exposed. _How could she have nearly cried in front of him?_ She can't stand the concern in his eyes, the questions that are clearly intended to discern her emotional wellbeing without directly asking about it. She hates that he was right about her advisors, with whom she spends hours a day and he's never met. She is ashamed that everyone, _everyone_, seems to have known about this rumor when she was kept in the dark, and Rolf only reminds her of that.

And because Rolf is exactly the last person Elsa wants to see, it is natural that he is the person walking up the corridor when she finally emerges from the study for dinner.

"Your Majesty," he says, stopping in his tracks. "I was just on my way to see you."

She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly through her nose. She doesn't want to deal with this just now. She hasn't eaten yet today. She's not in the mood. "Were you?" she asks coolly, more so than is probably warranted.

"Yes," his voice falters, as he detects her irritation. Good, she thinks. "My brother… Prince Ivar… would like to request another meeting."

"Is there a reason Prince Ivar couldn't come up an tell me this himself?" It is not only her annoyance with Prince Rolf this time. She cannot permit her guests to send her messengers in her own castle. She is the Queen, and if Prince Ivar can't be bothered to come see her himself, why should she be bothered to meet with him?

"He was going to come," Rolf answers quickly. "But I wanted to. I mean… I volunteered."

"Why?" Elsa presses.

"I… I… needed to stretch my legs," he finishes lamely. _I wanted to check up on you_. The reason is as clear to Elsa as if he'd actually told her.

"Tell Prince Ivar that I will meet with him immediately after lunch tomorrow," she instructs. She knows her tone is harsher than is strictly necessary. It's biting almost, but she can hardly bring herself to care. She turns to leave, thoughts of steak and potatoes swimming in her mind.

"Your Majesty?"

"Yes?" She stops and turns her head. "Is there something else I can help you with?"

"I just…" he drops his eyes. "I just wondered…" Elsa wishes he would just spit it out. "Are you…" He sighs. "Are you okay?"

There it is.

"I am fine, thank you." She turns back around, starts back toward the dining room.

"I'm sorry."

She doesn't even turn her head. "So you've said."

"No, I'm sorry I keep bothering you with this." She stops. "I'm sorry…" he continues. "I'm sorry that I care."

"You don't," Elsa replies shortly. "Not really. You feel guilty."

"No," he argues. "I mean, I do, but no. Look, I know you have to maintain appearances, what with your position and all, so you can't really talk about it." He is speaking very quickly, and Elsa suspects he might be doing it so he can get everything out before she has the chance to cut him off. "I watched my brother, Nikolai, go through the same thing when he lost his first son. He wouldn't even talk to us, even though we all told him—well, anyway," he shakes his head. "I just wanted to say that I know. Okay? Maybe I'm not a King, but I _know_."

She considers this. Of course the Princes would understand a need to keep up appearances, she realizes, maybe to a lesser extent than her, but they were all royal, and they hadn't been hidden from their people for years like Anna had. "It's just… hard," she finds herself saying, and as soon as the words are out of her mouth, she can't believe herself.

Leave.

"I know," Prince Rolf takes a careful step forward. She's encouraged him. "I want you to know that I'd never tell anyone. About anything that happened or anything that… might ever happen. I would never use it against you." He smiles cautiously. "After all, being the Queen doesn't make you not a person."

Elsa wants to smile, because, just for a second, he sounded exactly like Anna, but she bites the sides of her mouth to stop herself, and drops her eyes. "Well, I might not be the Queen much longer anyway." _Why is she telling him this?_

"What do you mean?" he asks, dropping the smile immediately.

"I mean if the throne really belongs to the Princess," _Why is she telling him this?_ "I won't keep her from it." _She needs to stop. _"I've taken enough from her already." _She needs to leave_.

He furrows his eyebrows. "Is that what the Princess wants?"

She doesn't answer right away. No, that's not what Anna wants now at least, but what about when she's older, when she's had time to think it through? What about the next time Elsa makes a policy decision Anna disagrees with? If the throne really does belong to Anna, Elsa doesn't think she can bear the guilt anyway. She's already deprived her sister of a childhood. She won't deprive her of a future as well.

"That's what I want."

"Is it really?"

"Yes." She realizes now that he hasn't addressed her as 'Your Majesty' in a while, not since the beginning of the conversation. She considers pointing it out, but decides it's beside the point. They aren't really conversing in an official capacity anyway. It's after hours, so to speak, and she is not wearing her crown. "I'm holding you to your word," she informs him instead. "If anyone else finds out about this, I'll know it came from you. I'll know you're—" _like your brother._

"You needn't worry," Rolf assures her. "But, I would advise you to… just think very carefully before you do anything rash."

"I'll take that under consideration," she replies dryly.

"And, should you need anything, anything at all," he bows shallowly, and Elsa is pretty sure he's making a joke, but not positive. "I'm at your service."

"I appreciate the thought." She doesn't. Well, maybe she does a little bit, but she would never admit to it.

"And I want you to know that I umm… well, I think you do a great job."

"Oh," the compliment takes Elsa by surprise and it takes her a second to realize that her mouth is hanging open in a very un-Queen-like fashion. She snaps it shut. She takes a breath, gathers her thoughts. "Thank you."

"Well, then, I suppose I'll see you tomorrow, You Majesty." There it is. He has become a Prince again.

"Yes, I suppose so." She nods to him. "Prince Rolf."

She turns once more to leave. "Queen Elsa," she hears him return, and she realizes this is the first time he's used her name rather than addressing her as 'Your Majesty.' Then, after a moment, there are retreating footsteps. She breathes a sigh of relief.

_What just happened?_ It was nothing, she tells herself. She is allowed to be friendly to foreign dignitaries. She wasn't friendly though, she realizes. She was candid, and that is completely different. Feelings had come up. She'd discussed feelings with a foreign delegate. _Conceal. Don't feel._ She repeats the mantra in her head. _Don't let them know_. She's broken the number one rule.

She isn't hungry anymore, she realizes, just queasy, but she really should try to eat because she hasn't all day. Besides, Anna will notice if she's absent from dinner. Anna will worry, and that's really the last thing either of them needs.

* * *

It seems Elsa is unable to escape the Princes of the Southern Isles. She'd taken Anna's advice that morning and requested that the Princes be served the day's meals in their quarters, but she hears voices before she pushes open the door to the dining room, and when she enters, there is Prince Anton, seated across from a very uncomfortable-looking Anna.

"Prince Anton," she says, stopping just inside the door. "This is a surprise."

"Prince Anton didn't get the memo," Anna explains flatly.

"I see," she replies. "Well, Prince Anton, will you be joining us?"

"Oh, I don't have to," he answers quickly, beginning to slide his chair away from the table. "I can go back to our quarters if that's what you prefer." He is speaking so quickly Elsa is surprised he is even able to get all the words out correctly.

For a brief second, she considers telling Anton that she absolutely would prefer if he ate with his brothers because one Prince is quite enough for her today, but her etiquette pokes its way back into her thoughts and she replies, "Absolutely not. It would be our pleasure."

Anna's mouth tightens and Elsa can tell she is supressing a groan. She takes her seat and picks up her fork, preparing herself to eat in awkward silence, but then she hears her sister's voice. "So, Prince Anton, can you tell us a story about Hans?" She nearly drops the fork.

Anton stops chewing and looks up from his plate. "What?"

"Can you tell us a story about Hans?"

"Anna, are you sure you want—" Elsa begins, but Anna interrupts.

"I want to know what he was like, you know, before. As a kid," she shrugs. "I'm just curious. Has he always been evil?" She is looking back at the Prince now.

"Oh, umm, no," Anton delicately sets down his fork and thinks for a moment. "Well, this one time, we were out in the gardens and it was umm… me, Hans, Rolf, Erlend, Simen, Emil, and—no, I don't think Peder was there. I think it was just the six of us. And I was like, eight, I think, so Hans would have been seven. Anyway, we were out in the gardens. I think maybe it started out as a punishment, because we were digging holes for the new trees that were being brought in and I don't know why else we would have been doing that. But Erlend told Hans that if he dug far enough, he would come out in Australia, and Hans really loved kangaroos at the time, so that idea was really appealing to him."

Elsa is having a very hard time picturing the man who stood over her, sword drawn, telling her she'd killed her sister as a gullible seven-year-old, and—she glances over at the Princess—judging by the scrunched-up look on Anna's face, she feels the same way, but she's set her fork back down beside her plate and is propping her head up with her knuckles. Under different circumstances, Elsa would tell her to keep her elbows off the table in the presence of guests, but she figures this must be something Anna needs to hear, so she refrains from interrupting.

"So, Hans got his hole really deep—and, by this time, the rest of us all had several holes—and he realized he couldn't get out. I guess, by that time, he'd figured out he couldn't get to Australia through our garden, and he started yelling for us to help him. Well, Erlend and Simen and Emil had other ideas. They started filling the hole up with Hans still in it, and Hans was crying and screaming for our parents and they were laughing, and it looked like fun, so Rolf and I joined in." Anton drops his eyes, shakes his head. "We were kids," he sighs. "Anyway, Hans was buried almost to his armpits by time the gardener heard him screaming and yelled at us to stop and pulled him out. I think our nanny got fired after that—we went through about one a year—and I know Emil, Simen, and Erlend had to shovel the stables for two weeks. Rolf and I were still a little young for that kind of work, and I think our father knew it wasn't our idea anyway. We only had to do lines."

Elsa is at battle with herself. On the one hand, she has to feel sorry for the little boy being buried by his brothers, but on the other, it's _Hans_, and Elsa is against feeling sorry for Hans on principle.

"Erlend feels really guilty about what happened," Anton added. "He was the worst to Hans, him and Emil and Simen. I think they all blame themselves for the way he turned out. Or, at least, that's what Rolf says. But we were kids. Erlend was only ten." He hasn't looked back up from his plate. "Rolf and I should have stopped them. We knew it wasn't right, but we were afraid if we said anything, we would be next. And it was, well… fun. You know," he sets his silverware on his plate and picks it up. "If you don't mind, I think I will go eat with my brothers."

"Of course," Elsa replies. She forgets sometimes—most of the time—that the Princes are Hans' brothers, that they grew up with him and still probably… still probably love him. She _killed_ Anna, she reminds herself, and Anna still loves her.

"Well, that was…" her sister trails off.

"Enlightening," Elsa supplies.

"I guess," she mutters as she stabs a piece of steak with her fork with much more force than is strictly necessary.

Now that Anton is gone, Elsa deflates. She slumps forward, supporting her forehead with her thumb and forefinger and squeezing her eyes shut. "Elsa?" Anna asks. "Are you okay."

Elsa sighs. There can't be any harm in asking, and Anna would certainly know better than she does.

"What was Father's relationship like with the other royal families?"

"Which ones?" Anna asks through a mouthful of steak.

"I don't know, any of them."

"Well," Anna taps her forefinger on her fork in thought. "I know he didn't like the King of Andalasia, because he used to complain every time he had to go there. He used to tell us he wished King Lionell would come here because at least then he could still sleep in his own bed, and Mother would have to remind him that we didn't—" Anna breaks off and looks at her sister. "Trust him enough." She pauses for a moment. "He liked the Queen and the Prince and Princess though," she continues. "He used to say you would have an easier time with them, because surely by time you took the throne, King Lionell would be dead, and it would be Prince Rene you were dealing with. Not that he wanted the King dead or anything, but," she grimaces. "Guess he was wrong about that." She nibbles at the steak at the end of her fork.

"And what of the other kingdoms?"

"He always said the Queen of Weselton was a reasonable woman," Anna continues. "We actually had her here once. Queen… Lucja, I think. So he must have trusted her. I heard them laughing in the study." Elsa feels a pang of guilt for ending Arendelle's relationship with Weselton before even speaking to the sovereign. Of course, she reminds herself, their Duke did try to kill her, and she has heard nothing from the kingdom since the coronation. She hasn't even received an apology. Of course it's still early. Maybe if they do send one, she'll reach out. Maybe.

"But was he… friends with any of them?"

Anna nods her head vigorously. "The King and Queen of Corona."

"I remember them coming here," Elsa replies. She remembers the fire that flickered constantly in her room in the days before their arrival, her parents coming to visit her in her bedroom. _Stay in here, Elsa, _they'd told her. _If you need anything, Kai will get it for you_. It wasn't much different from the way she was used to living, but it hurt all the same. It hurt to hear her unspoken rule of invisibility verbalized.

"They were here a couple times," Anna agrees. "Well, more than a couple. Probably like, once a year or something. I guess it doesn't matter. But Father and the King were really close, and I used to see Mother and the Queen walking through the garden. They would never let me come with them though. They had to talk about _grown-up stuff_," she wrinkles her nose at the words. "I mean, the King and Queen were always really nice but…" Anna shakes her head. "I didn't like it when they visited. They always seemed so sad, and there was… there was already too much sadness around here." She is staring down at her plate now, tracing the pattern on the table cloth with her finger. "And then their daughter came back…"

"And Mother and Father left for the celebration," Elsa finishes. "I asked them not to go."

"I didn't," Anna admits. "I wasn't concerned. They travelled all the time. I thought it would be okay."

"I was having a bad week," Elsa explains. "My powers were out of control. I was afraid. I wanted them to stay."

There is a beat of silence.

"_Anyway_, I think they were Mother and Father's best friends," Anna picks up in a tone that is just a little too upbeat for the words coming out of her mouth. "They were at the funeral. In the front row. With their daughter."

"And…" Elsa hesitates. "And what of the Southern Isles? How did father feel about them?"

Anna looks back up at her. "Elsa, is this about the Princes again?"

"No," Elsa replies defiantly. "Sort of. Maybe." God, she sounds like her sister.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" It isn't really a question so much as a prompt, but Elsa ignores that.

"I'd rather you tell me what father's relationship was like with King Henrik first."

"Fine," Anna snorts. "Well, I don't think they were close—he never came here—but father never complained about him either. And he thought Prince Nikolai was kind of thick. Every time he got back, he talked about how one of the younger sons, I don't remember which one, would have made a better king. But it wasn't Hans," she adds quickly. "He never said a word about Hans. I would have remembered. Do you want to tell me what happened?" She repeats.

Elsa's not so sure she does, but it occurs to her that Anna deserves some sort of explanation. It really isn't that big of a deal, she tells herself, and Anna will probably assume it's something worse if she says nothing. She opens her mouth to answer, but is saved from having to do so when one of the doors opens.

"I've got those papers you asked for, Ma'am," he says. He is out of breath once again, but this time Elsa is glad that he ran.

Anna shoots her a questioning look. She ignores it. "Good," she replies. "Please leave them on my desk."

"What papers?"

"I asked Marcus to retrieve the visitors logs for the castle in the year before my birth," Elsa explains.

She is expecting another argument. She is expecting Anna to tell her, once again, to drop it, to go on being blissfully ignorant of any questionability of her lineage, as if not knowing will make it any less true. She is surprised when her sister instead says, "I want to help."

"Excuse me?" If Elsa had had any food in her mouth, she would have choked on it.

"I want to help."

"But… why?"

Anna sighs. "I talked to Kristoff about it—what? It's not like he's going to tell anyone—and he told me I should… what was it? Oh yeah… be accepting of the fact that this is—I think the phrase he used was 'personal quest,' but I'm not really sure what that means, but the way he said it, it sounded important. Anyway, he said if it were me I would understand."

"And since when do you listen to what anyone else says?"

Anna shrugs. "Since I know someone who's never given me bad advice."

"I've never given you bad advice," Elsa argues.

"You've never given me any advice," Anna replies. Her tone is not malicious, but there is a tinge of ice in it that causes Elsa to refrain from pointing out that she did, in fact, advise Anna not to marry Hans, and that turned out to be very good advice. Instead, she drops her eyes, admitting to herself that Anna does have a point, even if the statement isn't entirely accurate in the strictest sense.

"Also," Anna adds. "You're going to do it anyway, and I know you won't tell me what's going on, so I figured the only way to know is to be part of the investigation. So I want to help."

Elsa knows that Anna meant no harm, but the truth in what she is saying stings. It brings back to mind all the negative effects of all of Elsa's good intentions.

"If you're going to help," Elsa sighs. "You need to prepare yourself for what we might find. Once you know something, there's no way to un-know it." How she wishes there was.

"I got it, I got it," Anna assures her.

"You're sure you've thought this through?"

"Elsa," Anna replies. "Think about who you're talking to. Would I ever do something without thinking it all the way through?"

* * *

A/N: Hey, guys. First off, I'm sorry it took me so long to get this chapter up. I struggled a lot with this last scene. It took me three days to write, and normally, I can pound out an entire chapter in that amount of time. It just wasn't coming for some reason. There also isn't really a lot of plot in this chapter, it was mostly character development, so sorry about that. The good news is, this was the longest chapter yet, so I guess that's something.

I've been getting a lot of questions about Kristoff, so I just wanted to let everyone know that he will show up eventually. It's just a little bit harder to work him into the story when I'm telling it solely from Elsa's point of view because I don't really see her just hanging out with him the way Anna does. But, anyway, he will be around in upcoming chapters.

Thanks again to everyone who takes the time to review. I've been getting some really detailed ones lately, and that is always appreciated.


	7. Stoic, Steady, and Strong

Anna is sprawled out on her stomach on the floor of the study. It looks very comfortable, Elsa thinks, if only she wasn't wearing a very tailored gown that barely allows her to lift her arms above her head. Instead, she has settled for simply sitting on the carpet—Persian, she thinks—and leaning against the front of the couch for support. It is strange to not be behind her desk, but it would be even stranger to be at her desk with her sister down here.

"What exactly are we looking for?" Anna asks, pulling a stack of papers out of the large, wooden crate.

"Anything that doesn't check out," Elsa replies absently as she shuffles through her own stack of paper.

"What do you mean 'check out'?"

"Just anything that doesn't make sense."

"Oh, okay," Anna answers in a tone that implies that the response was not very helpful at all, but she's not going to ask for further elaboration.

"If there's anyone who doesn't look like they have a good enough reason to be staying in the castle," Elsa explains. "Or anyone who's logged in for a job that we don't actually need. Something like that. Just use your common sense and ask yourself, does this person belong here?" She holds up the first page of the logs. "I've got the residential wing here," she adds. She picked it on purpose, because she figures this particular guest would have been housed near the family's living quarters. "What do you have?"

"The West Wing," Anna replies. Elsa watches her eyes scan the page. "Well, it looks like the Crown Prince of Maldonia stayed here twice."

Elsa shakes her head. "It wouldn't be anyone of status. They're too well connected. Too much chance that word would get out and too many potential diplomatic implications. Can you imagine how Father would have felt if he'd had to go to war with Maldonia knowing that he was raising the Crown Prince's child?"

"Guess that rules out the Council of Traders' Goods," Anna mutters, tossing another page aside haphazardly.

"Careful," Elsa warns. "Those are official records."

"So, Elsa," her sister says in a would-be casual tone. "Back to what we were talking about earlier—oh, there's a florist here."

"What dates?" she asks, looking up.

"Oh, never mind," Anna replies happily. "It was the second week in May. He would have been here for Mother and Father's wedding anniversary. Oh, wow, looks like they brought him in from Corona, too. Fancy."

"Mother always did love flowers," Elsa remembers. "I'm sure Father spared no expense."

"Anyway," Anna continues, and Elsa suppresses a groan. "Back to what we were talking about at dinner, what happened?"

She wishes her sister would just let it go, because she is having a very difficult time burying her emotions when Anna keeps dredging them back up. "It was nothing."

"Liar."

"Just a conversation I had with the Prince."

"Which one?"

"Rolf."

"Prince Rolf."

"That's what I said."

"No," Anna shakes her head slowly. "You just said Rolf."

Elsa shoot her a pointed look. "You know what I meant."

"Do I?" Anna asks, quirking an eyebrow, but she moves on anyway. "What was the conversation about?"

"He just asked me if I was okay," she answers, dropping her gaze to the carpet.

"And what did you say?"

"I told him I was fine," Elsa replies.

"And?"

"And what?"

"That can't be everything," Anna insists. "Why all the questions about Father?"

"He told me…" Elsa is almost too embarrassed to say it, especially to her sister. She knows Anna thinks she understands life as a royal—she is one after all—but she also knows that the King and Queen's strictness towards her was made up for by an abundance of laxness where Anna was concerned. It makes no sense, Elsa thinks, because their parents must have known that she would never produce an heir, that Anna would likely take the throne one day, or at least raise the person who would take the throne one day, but then, they were only two people, and Elsa guesses something had to give. She knows she can't have been easy to handle, and her parents did have a country to run. Perhaps there was just no time to train a second daughter in appropriate behavior. Maybe they thought it wouldn't matter because the gates would be closed Anna's entire life. "He told me he _knew_."

"Knew… what exactly?"

She hesitates. "Knew that I couldn't actually tell him the answer," she admits. "For propriety's sake."

"Okay…" Anna replies. "And then what?"

"And," Elsa can feel frost blossoming on her cheeks like a blush. She looks adamantly in the direction opposite her sister. "I told him it was hard."

"What was hard?" Elsa can hear the confusion in the Princess' voice. She knows she isn't being specific enough for Anna to understand, but if Anna is going to drag the story out of her, Elsa would rather at least not make it easy.

"Concealing."

She can a sharp intake of breath. "Elsa, you know you don't have to do that anymore."

"Yes I do," she answers softly. "And I always will. I'm the Queen. I'm stoic, steady, and strong. I can't be weeping all over the shoulders of foreign dignitaries."

"Weeping?"

"I didn't weep," Elsa amends quickly. "It was an expression. I just… told him how I felt."

Anna furrows her brow. "What's wrong with that?"

"Well, I can't be stoic, steady, and strong if I wear my heart around on my sleeve, can I?" she hisses, and then immediately wishes she'd softened her tone.

If Anna takes offense to the statement, it doesn't show. "Elsa, you're not wearing your heart on your sleeve," she's smiling and it makes Elsa uncomfortable that she doesn't know why. "It's trust."

"Trust?" The word leaves a bad taste in her mouth, because, no, she cannot start trusting the Princes. She cannot start trusting anyone, except maybe Anna. Trust is how people get taken advantage of. Elsa is the Queen. She cannot risk it. Besides, she is not sure she could bare to see _that_ happen to either of them again, not after Rolf's _brother_. Elsa hadn't liked the man, but she had trusted him, and look where that had gotten the both of them.

"Yes Elsa, that means you take someone at their word."

"I know perfectly well what it means, thank you," she snaps.

"And what's wrong with that?" Anna asks.

"Because," Elsa takes a breath to calm herself down. She can feel the frost spreading down her neck and wonders if Anna has noticed the cold white against her already frosty complexion. None of this is her sister's fault, she reminds herself. Anna is the one who didn't want the Princes to stay in the first place. "It also means that they can take advantage of you."

"Yeah…" Anna replies slowly. "But it doesn't mean they will. That's why you have to choose carefully."

The Queen emits a hollow laugh. "You're one to talk."

"Is that what this is about?" her sister asks. She pushes aside her stack of papers and sits up. "I trusted Hans and he betrayed me?"

"I trusted him too," Elsa admits quietly. "I trusted him with you, and you died."

Anna sighs in exasperation. "But that doesn't happen _every_ time."

"Anna, you're the one who didn't want them here at all. Are you telling me you've changed your mind."

"Maybe I don't think they came here to finish what Hans started anymore," the Princess replies. "And I'm saying you're allow to have friends. Do I wish they weren't from a certain nearby kingdom? Yes. But beggars can't be choosers, now, can they?"

"Friends," Elsa murmurs. The word tastes foreign on her tongue, and she wonders if it's possible to really be friends with a person while knowing you have the power to halt trade with their country, that you may have to go to war with them in the future. Elsa wonders if it's possible to set aside all of those things. If it is, she doesn't know how. But she doesn't know how to be _friends_ either, so maybe it's a moot point.

"Mmhm," Anna answers as she looks back down to the stack of paper at her side. "Looks like there were a lot of horse trainers here that year."

"What?" The Queen shakes her head. "Oh, no, Arendelle hosted some sort of horse show that year. Mother told me about it once. They're legitimate."

"A horse show?" Anna exclaims. "That sounds fun. We should have one."

Elsa smiles at her sister's enthusiasm. "Somehow, I doubt the other nations are going to be eager to come back here so soon." She returns to her stack of papers as well. "It doesn't look as if there was anyone actually staying in our wing," she mutters as she scans the list of names. "Everyone on here was logged in and out on the same day."

Anna shrugs. "That's normal isn't it?"

"Maybe…" Elsa replies without taking her eyes off the page.

"But seriously, Elsa, about this horse show—"

"Wait!" Elsa interrupts. Anna looks up in alarm. "I found one."

"One what?"

"I found someone who was staying in the residential wing," she answers. "Daniel Kristiansen.

"Well, what's his reason for being there?"

Elsa shakes her head. "It doesn't say." She pushes herself off the floor with an unattractive grunt and hurries to the door. "Marcus?"

"Yes, Ma'am?" The door cracks open and the young steward pokes his head in.

"Marcus, I need you to find all the records on Daniel Kristiansen," she explains. "They should be with the dossiers on the rest of the visitors."

"Of course, Ma'am," he answers. "I'll go right now."

"No," Elsa replies quickly. "Tomorrow will be fine. You're dismissed for the evening."

"Thank you, Ma'am."

"And Marcus," she calls after him. "Please keep this to yourself."

"Elsa?"

When she pushes the door closed, Anna is staring at her. Guilt is etched all over her face and, briefly, Elsa wonders if Anna too knows something that she doesn't. "Yes?" she asks, trying to ignore the unpleasant swooping feeling in her stomach.

"His name is Martin."

"What?"

"His name is Martin," Anna repeats. "You were right. The Princes were here, and I was angry, and…" she sighs. "I was messing with you," she finishes lamely.

Elsa isn't sure whether to feel relief because it turns out Anna doesn't know some huge secret about her past or embarrassment over the fact that she's been calling her steward by the wrong name for five days. She glances back and forth between her sister and the door, and because this is absolutely the last thing she expected Anna to say, the only word she can force out is, "Oh."

* * *

The wind burns her face, whips her hair. Tiny pieces of hail rip at her cheeks. She runs her fingers across her forehead and through her hair to hold it in place so she can see, but she feels moisture. She removes her hand and it is streaked with blood.

All she can see is white as snow spirals around her. There are shadows in the distance. They are coming closer. She doesn't know who they are, but she knows she does not want them to catch up to her. If they catch up to her it will all be over. She takes a step back, and then another. She can make out the glow of torches now as they approach her. Suddenly, she feels hot, so very hot. She tries to call on the ice, to form some sort of barrier between them and her, but nothings comes. She tries once more before balling her useless hands into fists at her side.

She turns to put more distance between herself and her pursuers, but then there is he is. She is face to face with him. Hans' mouth twists into a grin that reminds Elsa only of pictures she's seen in books. She thinks they are called jackals.

She is powerless to stop him as he reaches out and wraps his hand around her neck. He pulls her so close to his face that their noses almost touch, that she can see her reflection in his eyes. The ice has torn the flesh of her face and blood drips like tears from the cuts. She chokes as his grip compresses her throat.

"Your sister is dead," he whispers, and his voice is low and dangerous. She can feel the warmth of his breath on her face. "Because of you."

He releases her and she falls to the ground. She tries to crawl away but he plants a foot firmly on her cape to hold her in place.. He is standing over her, blocking the light. He raises his sword above his head.

"Queen Elsa of Arendelle," he cries over the howl of the wind. "I hereby charge you with the crime of treason and sentence you to death."

She can hear cheering in the distance, her own people calling for her execution. The shadowy, torch-bearing figures are near enough now that she can count them. Twelve. She tries to struggle, but she can't move. Her hands are frozen to the ice of the fjord. Her feet are bare. She must have lost her shoes during the scuffle. The ice slippers never were very practical.

Hans is grinning now, just like the jackals in her book. There is a maniacal gleam in his eye. He looks crazed, power-hungry, but her people will never see that, she realizes. She is the only one who will ever know, and it is a secret Hans will make sure she takes with her to the grave. The heat is stifling.

He begins to swing his sword down toward her.

"Brother!" she hears someone call.

"Elsa!" yells someone else.

Her world has gone black. She can't move. "Elsa!" she hears in the distance. The cry is muffled. Then she hears it again, closer this time. "Elsa!" She feels something touch her and tries to jerk away. "Elsa!" Someone is grabbing at her in the darkness. She still can't move. She can't escape.

"Elsa, wake up!" The cry is coming from very nearby now. "Elsa, it's me!"

Anna.

She snaps her eyes open. Anna's face is inches from hers. She screams in surprise and tries to pull away, but her limbs are tangled in the sheets.

"Elsa, it's okay!" Anna says, sitting back up on the bed.

She is panting. She can feel tiny crystals of sweat frozen to her body. "Anna," she breaths. "What are you doing here?"

"Umm," Anna replies, moving to untangle one of her arms from the grip of the blanket. "I heard you screaming. It was kind of loud."

_Fantastic._ "Did… did anyone else hear it?"

"No…" Anna busies herself with the sheets.

"Anna."

"A couple guards showed up about the same time I did."

Elsa breathes a sigh of dismay. She can feel her face growing warm. That is all she needs, the entire castle knowing that the Queen is having nightmares.

"You were _screaming_. You're the Queen. What did you expect?" Anna asks. "You could have been… being murdered by an assassin for all they knew."

"I was," she mutters as she pulls her other arm free and sits up.

"You froze your mattress," Anna points out unnecessarily.

"That's not all I froze," Elsa replies, looking around the room. Her floor is a solid sheet of ice. It is a small wonder Anna made it across in one piece. Frost works its way up the corners of the walls and icicles the size of her arm have blossomed near the ceiling.

"That's okay, though," Anna says. "It looks nice this way. It's very you. Not that you're icy. Or cold. Well you are, but just temperature-wise, not, you know, otherwise." She looks away.

Elsa folds her arms across her stomach, draws her knees to her chest, and stares in the other direction. They sit like that a while before Anna breaks the silence. "So… what was it about?"

"What?" Elsa asks partially because the question takes her by surprise and partially because she'd been so immersed in her own thoughts of princes and treason and ice that she is not entirely sure she even heard it correctly.

"The dream, what was it about?"

"Oh," Elsa drops her eyes. "It was nothing."

"Elsa, it's okay," Anna reaches out, places a hand on her shoulder. Elsa does not see it coming and pulls away before she can stop herself. Anna quickly withdrawals the hand and folds it into the other in her lap. "I get them too," she adds.

She looks back up at her sister, staring at the floor, hands wringing themselves in her lap. She has a sudden urge to reach out, to still Anna's hands with her own, but no. She can't bring herself to do that, to touch. "About…" she hesitates. "About Hans?"

Anna looks up slowly, cheeks growing pink, and then she nods. "Is that what yours was about?"

"He was going to kill me," she replies in the way of an answer. "And people were cheering."

"Sometimes I have dreams that he's killing you," Anna replies. "And I have to watch you die. And sometimes I have dreams that… he's marrying you instead."

Elsa furrows her eyebrows. "Why would you dream about that?"

"No reason," she shakes her head. "It's just a dream."

"Oh," Elsa says.

"His head always turns into a wolf's though," Anna continues. "In the end. Is this… is this the first one you've had?"

"No," Elsa admits. "Just the worst." Truth be told, Hans has turned up in her dreams almost every other night since her return to the castle and every night since his brothers arrived. Sometimes he's simply there, watching, waiting. Other times he whispers in her ear over and over again that her sister is dead and it's her fault. But he's never chased her before, never touched her, tried to kill her.

"How are you going to go back to sleep on this mattress?" her sister asks, pushing herself off the bed.

"I'll manage," Elsa replies shortly.

"Come on," Anna says. "You can share my bed. We'll have a sleepover. Like when we were little."

"I can't," Elsa answers quickly, her eyes widening. How can she place herself so close to Anna when she's just frozen over her entire bedroom? She cannot put her sister in that kind of danger. She will not. Aside from that, Elsa is not sure she would even be able to fall asleep with another person in the room, even if it is _Anna, _who only ever has her best interests at heart, Anna who would never do anything to harm her. She and Anna shared a room, once upon a time, but that was thirteen years ago, and a lot has changed since then. Elsa isn't even close to the same person.

"I don't mind," Anna is saying. "My bed is _huge_. More than enough room for two people. Not that I know from experience or anything," she adds quickly.

Elsa sighs. "Anna, I really can't. But thank you for the offer. I'll just go sleep in one of the spare bedrooms."

"Oh, okay," Anna replies, an air of disappointment in her voice, and Elsa can't help but feel a pang of guilt.

"Goodnight, Anna," Elsa says. "Thank you for waking me."

"Goodnight, Elsa," Anna returns, ducking out the door.

* * *

Sunlight streams through the castle's windows. The thing about the years of closed curtains, Elsa thinks, was that the darkness always matched her mood. The world shouldn't be allowed to be this bright when she feels the way she does. She can even hear laughter floating down the corridor. Disgusting.

But wait.

Who even is that?

Not Kristoff.

Certainly not Anna.

"Surely he's not trying to woo her," someone is saying.

"No," comes second voice. "See, look, he's just trying to show her the veins on the leaf."

"That probably is his version of wooing."

"Your Majesty!" Elsa hears before she's even completely rounded the corner. Erlend jumps away from the window and sinks into a low bow. Rolf follows suit.

"Prince Erlend, Prince Rolf," Elsa greets in a tone that she hopes is neutral.

They upright themselves and she is caught once again by their resemblance to their youngest brother. Especially Rolf's eyes, those eyes and that gentle, thin-lipped smile. The eyes in which she'd seen her blood-stained reflection, the mouth that had taunted her, lied to her, sentenced her to die.

She shakes the thought from her head. "Is something amusing?"

"Always," Erlend smirks, glancing back at the window. "Our brother. He seems to have accosted Princess Anna."

"What?" Elsa hurries to his side. Sure enough, she can see Anna and Prince Anton in the garden below. Anna is rubbing the crook of her arm and looking at something in Anton's hand.

"We think he's trying to give her a botany lesson," Rolf explains dryly. "It's his favorite pastime."

"He is aware, of course, that the Princess has a suitor?" Elsa asks.

Erlend laughs. "I don't think he cares. Romance is the last thing on Anton's mind."

"Anything other than plants is the last thing on Anton's mind," Rolf adds. "Our father keeps saying that if Anton is to marry, it will have to be arranged."

He is leading Anna by the elbow quickly toward a patch of flowers. Elsa is sure he knows exactly what they're called, but she only knows them as yellow. He kneels down and gestures for Anna to do the same. Elsa watches her sister plop down in the grass the opposite of gracefully as Anton begins to examine one of the blooms.

"Oh no," Erlend says. "He's started in on the stamen."

Rolf lets out a low whistle. "They'll be out there all morning."

"Well, they'll have to come in by lunch, won't they?" Elsa asks as she watches, to her amazement, Anna pick a blossom of her own to study. "The meeting…"

"Oh, that," Rolf replies. "No, Ivar doesn't need us for that."

"What?" Elsa raises her eyebrows.

"He just wants to go over some wording in one of the contracts," Rolf explains, rolling his eyes. "Nit-picky stuff that only Ivar would notice. He doesn't need us for that."

"We nearly laughed him out of the room when he even brought up the idea," Erlend adds. "I don't envy you. He'll probably make you go over comma placement for an hour."

"Excuse me?"

"He's been pouring over those contracts since you signed them," Rolf says. "You'd think his life depended on them being perfect."

"I guess that's why he's the career diplomat," Erlend agrees. "And we're just a lowly physician and violinist."

Elsa has to admit, it's good to talk to Erlend and Rolf without the pretense of business. She remembers what Anna told her last night. _You're allowed to have friends_. She looks back at her sister, sitting cross-legged in the garden watching Anton dissect a piece of grass. She thinks, if she could ever be friends with anyone, she could be friends with Erlend and Rolf. When they're not taking direction from Ivar, they're almost…

"When are you planning on returning to the Southern Isles?" she asks, because she doesn't want to think about what they almost are. She doesn't have time to bother with questions like how make conversation and what _feelings_ are appropriate to share and whether to greet a person with a handshake or a kiss on the cheek—she's not sure she's even ready to think about the latter—when there are much more pressing matters at hand, such as Ivar's commas and whose daughter she really is.

"Two more days until our week is up," Erlend answers. "So, I suppose, the day after tomorrow." He looks at his brother.

"I suppose," Rolf agrees, though he doesn't look at Erlend, doesn't take his eyes off Elsa.

"Well," she replies. "You may tell Prince Ivar…" she hesitates. Anna probably won't be happy, though Anna does not seem as anxious to send the Princes off as of late. "You may tell him that you are welcome in this castle until he is happy with our arrangement. The future of our nations is too important to rush."

"Of course, Your Majesty," Erlend bows, and it amazes Elsa once again that they've slipped out of and back into formal address without her even noticing.

"Of course," Rolf echoes, and she thinks she spots a grin playing at his lips. She tries not to think of those other lips, the ones that sneered as she gasped for breath, the ones that—_oh God_—the ones that may have even kissed Anna. She doesn't know. She's never asked. She's not sure if she wants to.

* * *

A/N: Hey guys, first off, I've been getting a lot of concern in the reviews about what's going on between Elsa and Rolf. To avoid spoilers, I'm simply going to draw everyone's attention to the fact that this story is not tagged as a romance and leave it at that. If you have any specific questions or concerns you'd like addressed, feel free to leave them in the reviews or shoot me a PM. I'll be happy to answer anything privately. I just don't want to spoil everyone by detailing my entire plan right here.

There was a lot of Elsa with Anna in this chapter, which, I'm hoping most of you will think is a good thing. I've been busy developing the Princes, so they haven't really had a good heart-to-heart (or as close to that as Elsa is capable of) in the past few chapters. I'm also just going to throw out there that nothing is more fun to write than nightmare sequences. 10/10 would recommend. So you might be seeing more of those.

Anyway, keep on reviewing. I didn't get as many last chapter, but I guess after what went down in four and five, that was bound to happen. I'll see you all next update!


	8. Blame

"Ma'am, the Princess is requesting a word."

"Thank you, Martin," Elsa replies. "Tell her I'll be with her in a moment." She looks across the desk at Prince Ivar, careful to arrange her face to mask the overwhelming feeling of relief. "Very well," she says. "We will have to continue this conversation tomorrow."

"Of course, Your Majesty," he answers. "I will have my changes drafted."

"I look forward to it," she lies. Rolf and Erlend hadn't been wrong when they'd described the triviality of Ivar's intentions. Elsa doesn't know why it matters so much to Ivar whether a sentence is in past or past imperfect tense, because it makes no difference whatsoever to her. Moreover, she doesn't understand why Ivar didn't edit the contract to his liking before he proposed it to her.

He stands up to leave. "Please send the Princess in," she calls after him.

"Of course, Your Majesty," he repeats. "Until dinner then."

She nods as he steps over the threshold. As soon as he's gone, she squeezes her eyes shut and utters a loud groan. It's about time. She has the distinct impression that Ivar would very much like to be a King, maybe not the way his _brother _does, but he certainly takes his job very seriously. She wonders if he is the brother about whom her father spoke to her mother and Anna, the one who should have been firstborn. She wonders if any of the few dignitaries who visited the castle before her parents' death thought the same thing about Anna. She is certainly the more charismatic of the two, the more personable. With some training, Elsa thinks, Anna will make a fine Queen one day.

The Princess bursts through the open door with all the subtlety of an avalanche a moment later and flings herself into the chair on the other side of the desk that Prince Ivar had occupied just before. "I swear, Elsa," she begins before her sister has even had a chance to look back up from the stack of papers in front of her. "If I have to hear one more word about a stigmata—"

"Stigma?" Elsa interrupts.

"Whatever," Anna waves a hand. "I am going to rip my hair out. And then I'll rip Prince Anton's hair out."

"You seemed to be enjoying yourself perfectly well this morning," Elsa comments, raising an eyebrow.

"How did you—"

"Windows, Anna."

"Okay, okay, fine," Anna sighs dramatically. "So maybe he's growing on me. But just like, a little bit."

"And what will Kristoff say?"

"Kristoff knows perfectly well not to be threatened by anyone with 'Southern Isles' for a last name." It is the sudden coldness and severity of her sister's voice that finally makes Elsa look up from her desk.

"Oh, Anna, I'm sorry," she answers quickly. "That was tactless. I was… trying to make a joke, and I just… didn't think it through." Of course the implication behind the joke hit a sore spot, she chastises herself. How could she have been so stupid as to even suggest… and she'd been doing so well. Well, she'd been doing better than she'd ever done before. Not that that was saying much, but it was something.

Anna shakes her head and looks down at her lap. "Did you need something?" Elsa asks, changing the subject.

"What?" her sister lifts her head. "Oh, no," she replies distantly. "I just thought you might need an excuse to end that meeting."

Elsa offers a quick nod. "Well, thank you. You were right."

"So," Anna says, suddenly smiling a little too brightly. "Did you get that file?"

"Yes." It takes a Elsa a moment to remember what her sister is talking about, but she pulls stack of papers bound together with a leather strap from one of her desk drawers. "Martin delivered them this morning."

"So then," Anna claps her hands together and scoots forward in her chair. "Are we going to pick up where we left off last night?"

"I'd like you to keep going through the visitor logs," the Queen explains. "Just in case this is a dead end. Can you start with the North Wing, since that's where we keep most of the non-staff visitors?"

"Fine," Anna sighs, and Elsa can sense her disappointment at being relegated to the less exciting task, but she appreciates that her sister doesn't complain.

She watches Anna cross the room, pick a handful of papers from the box and sprawl across the couch. Part of her wants to warn her sister to be careful because that upholstery is velvet, but she reminds herself that Anna has lived in this castle almost as long as she has, and if the maids hadn't learned how to remove dirt from anything and everything long ago, her parents would have had to refurnish once a year. Instead she settles for, "Let me know if you find anything."

"Yup," Anna mutters, already engrossed in the first page.

Elsa has barely begun to pursue her own file when Anna speaks again. "This is interesting."

"What?" Elsa asks without looking up.

"The King of the Southern Isles was here. What if it was him?"

"Very funny, Anna."

"Oh, nope. Looks like he was here in July. That's way too early. Thank goodness." Elsa can hear a page turn, and then another. She focuses back on the file in front of her.

"Daniel Kristiansen is on record as a horse trainer," she says slowly. "Which makes sense, given the timing. It's just…"

"What?" Elsa looks up. Anna is staring at her.

"Why was he in a different wing?"

Anna shrugs. "Maybe he was a really good horse trainer. Or maybe he was flighty, and they wanted to keep him close so he wouldn't, you know," Anna makes a sweeping hand motion, and Elsa isn't entirely sure what it's supposed to be. "Fly the coop."

"Maybe," Elsa mutters. "Or maybe he wasn't really training horses. I don't see his credentials anywhere."

"Anything looks suspicious if you try hard enough," she hears Anna murmur, and she isn't sure if the words are intended for her ears or not, so she says nothing.

"Huh. Hey, Elsa?"

"What?"

Anna sits up. "Why would the King of Corona visit five times in one year?"

"What?"

"Why would—" Anna sighs. "You heard me."

"Are you sure?"

"It's right here," Anna points to the piece of paper in her hand.

"Bring it here."

"Bring it here…?" Anna looks at her expectantly.

Elsa rolls her eyes. "Please."

"Okay." Anna bounds off the couch and over to the desk. "See? Novemeber 17th to December 20th, January 9th to January 28th, March 22nd to April 15th, June 1st to July 11th, August 29th to October 1st."

"And then what?"

"And then nothing," Anna replies. "I don't have any more records of him being here."

"Which means," Elsa says slowly, working through each piece of information in her head. "That he didn't come back until after I was born. Did he have the Queen with him?"

"He did during…" Anna consults the page. "The November, January, and June visits. The other two times he was alone. Elsa, the timing lines up—"

"Let's not jump to conclusions," the Queen holds up a hand. "You said he and our father were friends—"

"Five times in a year, Elsa."

"—and as you've just pointed out, there are perfectly reasonable explanations for King Thomas to make multiple visits. Didn't we say we were going to narrow out nobility? Besides," she holds up a page of her own. "We still have Daniel Kristiansen to think about."

Anna folds her arms. "It's suspicious. Admit it."

"What does King Thomas even look like?" Elsa asks. She vaguely remembers seeing him in the castle a couple of times before the accident. She remembers him being tall and having a rather bushy beard, but of specifics, she has no recollection.

Anna screws up her face in thought. "Umm, not that much like you. Dark hair."

"I will look into it," Elsa replies. "But I'm sure there is a good reason he was here. In the meantime, do not speak of this to anyone. This is the last rumor we need going around. And don't get your hopes up."

"My hopes were that we wouldn't find anything," Anna reminds her.

"Well, just don't get too attached to the idea."

"Fine, fine," Anna sighs, rolling her eyes. "Forgive me for preferring our parents' most trusted friend to some rando off the street—"

"Anna!" Elsa stops her. She takes a breath. "I will ask for the stable logs for the duration of Daniel Kristiansen's stay and the correspondence between our father and King Thomas. Until then—"

"I know, I know, keep my mouth shut. Got it."

* * *

It was Anna who had given her the idea of sneaking into the kitchen, except Elsa is not after berries. She curses under her breath when she spots it in one of the high cupboards over the stove. She looks around for something to stand on, but finds nothing, so, lamenting how much like her sister she is behaving right now, she climbs onto the counter and pulls the cupboard open.

The bottle of wine is heavy in her arms as she climbs down. A third of it is already gone, she realizes in disappointment, but it will have to do. She doesn't want to break open a new bottle from the wine cellar anyway.

"Well, this is a surprise."

She gasps and spins around on her heel so quickly she loses her balance and reaches out to grip the counter for support.

"That stuff really gets to you," Rolf nods at the bottle in her hand.

"I haven't had any, yet," she replies stiffly.

He laughs. "Then I'd be careful when you do."

"Thank you for your concern, but I can hold my alcohol just fine."

"I don't doubt it," the Prince raises an eyebrow.

"What are you doing here?" Elsa know she sounds harsh, but she doesn't much care at the moment. It's her castle, after all, and she doesn't like anyone, especially a Prince of the Southern Isles, walking around unchecked after dark.

"I've been sent on a food run," he explains.

"A food run?"

"Yes, my brothers sent me to get some food."

"Why?"

He shrugs. "Because they were hungry, I suppose."

"No, why you?"

"Oh," he replies. "Well, I'm the youngest… except for Anton of course, but he's engrossed in one of his books right now, so there's really no distracting him."

"You could have summoned a steward," Elsa points out.

"I think," Rolf answers slowly. "That the main purpose of sending me was to stay, umm… on the down-low."

She raises her eyebrows. "The down-low."

"Uhh, yes, I don't think they wanted anyone to know."

"And why would that be?"

"Well, the general consensus seemed to be that the food would be of, umm… better quality if one of us got it," he clears his throat. "Erlend thought the stewards might be holding out on us. It's just like Erlend, really. To think that." It comes out as a hasty jumble of words that Elsa is inclined to believe because, surely, any lie would be better rehearsed. Surely, if the Princes were up to something, they would have sent someone, well, smoother. Surely they would have sent Erlend, with his ability to calm and to craft words to his will, instead of Rolf, who can hardly seem to spit a sentence out when he's not talking business.

"Is that all for you?" he asks, gesturing to the bottle.

"Yes," she replies, hugging it to her chest, because if he thinks he's joining her—

"Are you going to drink all of it tonight?"

Oh.

"Maybe," she answers defensively. "If I feel like it."

"You don't think that's… a little much?" She doesn't like the look of concern on his face. She wishes he could just be indifferent or even judgmental. At least she knows how to handle those things. This concern… this concern is foreign to her because she doesn't understand _why_.

"It's nothing I can't handle."

"You know that from experience?"

"So what if I do?"

He takes a hesitant step forward. "Is this… is this about… anything in particular?" Is this about what I told you the other night, is what he means. Elsa can tell.

_Yes._

"No," she answers, and she is proud of the solidity in her voice. Rolf nods, but she can tell he's not buying it. "I'm fine," she adds, because she knows the question is coming.

"Okay."

"I'm looking into it."

He cocks his head to the side. "Why?"

She shrugs, drops her eyes. "I need to know."

"So you can make the decision to abdicate."

"If it comes to that."

He is contemplating the patch of ground in front of him like he wants to take another step forward. Elsa is relieved when he decides against it and brings his gaze back up to meet her eyes. He's close enough already. She could reach out and touch him if she wanted to. "Can I just say something?"

She sighs. "Fine."

"If something like that ever happened to my brother… if he found out, for some reason, that he wasn't really the heir to the throne, and I was next in line… if he stepped down because of me, well," he pauses. "I just don't think I would be able to live with myself." He holds his hands up. "Maybe that's just me, because I know I wouldn't make a good king, and Nikolai's been raised for it, but… just think about that, okay?"

She nods, quick and firm. Rolf returns the nod. "Well," he begins to back away. "Have a good night then.

"Wait," she calls after him. "Didn't you come for food?"

"I'll just tell Erlend I ran into you," he answers. "He can send a steward. It won't kill him. Be careful with that." His eyes flit back to the bottle of wine.

He is gone as quickly as he arrived.

* * *

There is just too much going on in Elsa's mind. Daniel Kristiansen. King Thomas. Surely not King Thomas. Anna had said they didn't look much alike, and it seemed ridiculous to suspect another King. But was it possible that, in a moment of desperation, her father had asked his best friend for a favor? She raises the bottle to her lips and takes another drink. It is nearly empty now, and she doesn't know where it all went. Well, she does, she just doesn't know how it got there so quickly.

And then there's Prince Rolf. She had been convinced that returning Anna's throne to her would be the right thing to do were these rumor proven true, and then he'd gone and… said what he'd said. Was it possible that, in trying to do the right thing, she would hurt her sister? _Well, what else is new?_ Honestly, she doesn't even know why she's surprised. Her good intentions have never led either of them anywhere decent.

She watches frost climb up the window pane as the door creaks open somewhere behind her. "What are you doing up?"

Anna makes her way across the room, seizing a chair halfway and pulling it up next to Elsa's. "How did you know it was me?" she asks as she drops into it.

"Who else?"

"I don't know," Anna replies, pretending to consider the question. "The maid coming in to draw the curtains and lay out your clothes, or a different maid to clean up." She pauses, looking around. "Not that there's much cleaning to do in here. Geez, how do you live like this? It's like you clean up after yourself."

"No one ever comes calling here," Elsa answers, shaking her head. "No one ever has. Only you."

For a moment, Anna only stares out the window, or at the tendrils of frost circling their way up the pane. Elsa can't be sure as she takes another drink. When her sister speaks again, it's like she's calling from somewhere far away.

"Was it lonely?"

"Of course," Elsa replies without even thinking about it. "Every second of every day." Silence falls again and the Queen has the distinct impression that her sister doesn't know what to say, but, perhaps because of the pleasant buzzing in her ears and warmth in her stomach, Elsa feels particularly talkative, so she continues. "I watched you grow up out this window, you know."

The chair has probably worn a hole in the carpet by now. She's spent what feels like an eternity sitting in this exact spot, leaning against the windowsill as Anna played dolls, learned how to do a cartwheel, and confided her secrets to the ducks from the pond in the garden just three floors down. She used to pretend she was her sister's guardian angel, but that had always been a joke, because everyone knew guardian angels don't almost kill their wards.

"You could have come out," Anna replies.

"No I couldn't," Elsa shakes her head, leaning back in the chair, allowing herself to sink into the cushion. She closes her eyes, but it feels like being on a ship, so she snaps them back open again.

"You didn't always have to do what Mother and Father said, you know," Anna points out. "I never did."

"It wasn't about being obedient, Anna," Elsa explains, swishing the wine around the bottom of the bottle. "It was about keeping you safe."

"But you're not dangerous."

"We both know that's not true."

"Elsa," she can hear the increase in volume that comes with Anna turning her head back toward her, but she doesn't meet her sister's gaze. "Just because you hit me with ice one time on the mountain… that doesn't mean anything!"

"You _died_, Anna," Elsa can feel her voice beginning to crack. She tips her head back and empties the bottle before dropping it with a loud thunk to the floor beside the chair. "And, besides, it wasn't just that one time."

"What?"

"It happened before."

"But I don't remember—"

"You were five," Elsa interrupts. "You woke me up. You wanted to build a snowman."

"We did that all the time," Anna replies. "We snuck outside and—"

"No," Elsa shakes her head. "We were in the ballroom. I filled it up with snow and we were playing. You were jumping and I was catching you with snow, but then you started going faster and I couldn't keep up with you—"

"Elsa, that never happened—"

"And I dropped you, and then I accidently hit you in the face with ice because I was afraid you'd get hurt," Elsa continues, smirking at the irony. "And we went to the trolls in the dead of night and they took away all your memories of my powers, and they told us that fear would be my enemy, so Mother and Father decided to keep me hidden until I learned to control it."

"Elsa, you're drunk," Anna replies. "That didn't happen. I didn't even know you had powers until the coronation. You hid them from me."

"I did what I had to do to protect you," Elsa answers shortly.

"You didn't have to lock yourself up because of something that might never have happened—"

"Because of something that did happen," Elsa intercedes.

"No."

"Anna," she sits up. "How did Kristoff know to take you to the trolls when I… froze your heart?"

Anna shrugs. "He said he saw them do it before."

"And who do you think that was?"

"I don't know, I just thought…"

Elsa can see realization wash over her sister's face. "Think about it. Does anyone else in Arendelle have ice powers? Did anyone else in Arendelle know I had ice powers?"

"But… but…"

"Anna, I'm so sorry."

"Why didn't anyone tell me?" The hurt in Anna's voice is heartbreaking. Elsa feels a tear streak down the side of her face.

She shrugs. "Why did Mother and Father do anything? To protect you, I suppose."

"Were you angry?" Anna asks. "That you had to hide? Were you mad at me?"

"Oh, Anna, no," Elsa shakes her head quickly. "The only person I was angry at was myself." She remembers those years like they are still happening. She remembers being told that she couldn't be around people until she learned to control herself, until she learned not to feel. She remembers feeling like her own body was the enemy, desperately wondering what was wrong with her, why she'd had to be born this way. She remembers the fear, the frustration so intense it brought tears to her eyes, even on the best days. She remembers the self-hatred. No, the self-hatred, she still feels.

Her cheeks are wet now. The tears drip off her chin onto the fabric of her dress. She always cries more when she's drunk. She always has.

She can hear Anna stand up. The floor boards squeak as she movies closer to where the Queen is sitting and kneels down in front of her. "Elsa," she says, taking her sister's hands. Elsa can feel them twitch in surprise, but she does not pull away. "None of this is your fault, okay? None of it."

Elsa shakes her head and emits a sniffle about which she knows she will be embarrassed in the morning. _Where is your stoic, steady, and strong now?_ "If I'd caught you—"

"No," Anna interrupts. "This wasn't you. This was a bad decision that was made when we were both too small to do anything about it. That's all." She picks up the bottle on the floor beside the chair and studies it. "Did you drink all of this by yourself?"

"Most of it," Elsa admits.

"Elsa…"

"I'm fine," she insists. "I've had more."

"What?"

"The they used to bring me up whole bottles with dinner."

Anna gasps. "And you finished them."

"Sometimes," Elsa replies with a shrug. Her shoulders no longer feel attached to her body. "If it was a bad day." She pushes herself up from the chair and stumbles forward. "I'm tired."

"Oh, okay," Anna answers, rushing to stand up and pull the blankets back off the bed before Elsa collapses onto it.

"Thank you, Anna," she sings into the pillow. "See you at breakfast." And because she is drunk and uninhibited and feels that her sister needs to hear it, "I love you."

"Goodnight, Elsa," she hears as the door swings closed.

* * *

A/N: Hey, guys, sorry this one took so long. One word: midterms. Plus, shit hit the fan in the fanfiction I'm currently reading religiously, so I've spent a lot of the week stressing out about that cliffhanger.

So the big question I got in reviews was whether we're going to see Olaf anytime soon, and I got the question from several people and it's not to spoiler-y, so I figured I'd go ahead and answer here. I'm not going to say never, but as of right now, I don't have any plans to bring him in. The big reason is because I feel that his specific brand of humor would conflict with the overall tone I'm trying to set. The other main reason is because I have very little confidence in my ability to write comic relief characters. So, long story short, probably not. My thought process is that I can justify it because, like Kristoff, he mostly pals around with Anna, not Elsa.

The other reason that it might have taken me a little bit longer to post is that I've started planning my next story, and it's still skin and bones right now, but let me just say that the tone of that one is probably going to make this story look downright lighthearted. I'm planning on using lines from Next to Normal as chapter titles. If you're familiar with that musical, that should tell you something about the tone.

One last thing, I really wanted to take the time to thank everyone who reviews regularly, and, while I enjoy reading every review, those of you who write the detailed ones. I know it takes time to put that kind of thought into a review, and I absolutely love them. Those are the ones I reread when I know I need to get a chapter up but I don't feel like writing.

Review if you have a minute and I'll see you all next update.


	9. A Standing Offer

Morning comes too soon, and with it, the pounding headache, to which Elsa has become accustomed. Nonetheless, she pulls herself out of bed and changes her dress. There are dark smudges under her eyes and her bun is haphazard, but she sighs and backs away from the mirror all the same, resigning herself to 'good enough.' She's never had to look her part the morning after finishing a bottle, she realizes, because usually she would just be spending the entire day holed up in her bedroom. Last night is the first time she's been drunk since becoming Queen. Running her hand over her hair one last time in the vain hope that it will lie flat, she approaches the door.

She's barely pushed it open when it collides with something solid on the other side, and her shoulder connects with the wood with a dull thud. She hears a muffled "Ouch!" and jumps backward, clasping her hands over her chest.

"Anna?" she calls tentatively. She hears a shuffling noise and a moment later, the door is swinging open to reveal her sister, clutching a book and gingerly rubbing the small of her back. "What are you doing?"

"Waiting for you, duh," Anna replies, backing up to allow the Queen to pass. "How are you?" she adds as she followers her sister down the hallway.

"My shoulder hurts," Elsa answers shortly.

"So does my back," Anna says. "Elsa, you know that's not what I meant."

"I'm fine."

"But last night—"

"_Fine, _Anna."

"Elsa, stop!" Anna's voice has grown distant and Elsa becomes aware that her sister is no longer following her. More out of curiosity than anything, she turns around. Anna is planted, arms crossed over her chest, ten feet back. "We need to talk about this."

"What do we need to talk about?" Elsa asks, unable to keep the tinge of annoyance out of her voice.

"What you told me last night…" Anna hesitates. "About when we were little?"

Elsa sighs, drops her eyes to the floor. "It was true."

"Oh." She can hear the disappointment in her sister's voice. "I was hoping it was just the wine talking."

"I know," Elsa answers. "I'm sorry. I should never have told you. I… I wasn't thinking."

"I'm glad I know," Anna replies. "The way you always avoided me… I thought I'd done something wrong."

"Anna…"

"I'm sorry you got blamed for what happened to me," Anna continues. "And that you thought you had to hide to keep me safe."

Elsa shakes her head and forces herself to meet her sister's eyes. "It was my fault. Don't you dare blame yourself for this, Anna. Don't you dare."

Anna is closing the gap between them now, slowly and carefully. "I won't if you don't." She comes to a stop only feet away. "Is that why you drink?"

Elsa takes a deep breath. She's known this question was coming deep down. She just hasn't formulated an answer. "It made it easier. Not to feel."

"But, Elsa—"

"I know," the Queen interrupts. "I don't have to do that anymore."

"Then why?"

Elsa pauses, bites her lip. "Because," she sighs. "I didn't want to feel anymore. Rolf, my lineage… you. It was too much." She balls her hands into fists and clenches them on either side of her head. "This is still very new."

She doesn't hear Anna approach, but a moment later, her arms are being pulled away from her face, and there is her sister, folding Elsa's hands into her own. "You're doing a great job."

Elsa can feel the heat rise to her face as she shakes her head and tries to back away, eyes still downcast, but Anna is not letting go of her hands. "Elsa, you're good enough. And not like,_ just_ good enough. Good enough."

Elsa disagrees, but as she finally meets her sisters eyes, sees the sincerity and desperation there, she cannot bring herself to say it, so she tries to smile, but she is sure it doesn't reach her eyes.

"Elsa, how long has this been, you know, a thing?"

"How long has what been a thing?"

"The… you know," Anna tips her head back and makes some hand gesture that Elsa can't decipher, but, given the context, she is pretty sure she knows what it means.

"The drinking?"

Anna nods solemnly, and Elsa sighs. "Since the night we received the news of Mother and Father's death."

"But that was three years ago," Anna replies, furrowing her brow. "You haven't been…" she trails off.

Elsa nods. "Yes, I have. Not… not every night, of course. Just when I need to."

"And since the coronation?"

"Only last night. We've been taking meals together, so I haven't exactly been having bottles of wine delivered to my chambers."

Anna finally releases her sister's hands and crosses her arms over her chest. "Well, what happened last night?"

"I realized I could sneak into the kitchen."

Elsa regrets her answer immediately as realization washes over the Princess' face. "You got that idea from me."

"It doesn't matter," Elsa shakes her head. "It was my decision."

"But, why?" Anna whispers.

"Because…" Elsa struggles for the words to describe exactly what she is feeling, but discovers she cannot come up with any. It is more the fact that she _is_ feeling that's the problem. "I wanted to feel okay. For a while."

"You don't usually?"

"Anna, I haven't felt okay since I was eight." Part of Elsa regrets the reply right away, but Anna flies at her and before she knows what's happened, her sister's arms are wrapped tightly around her midsection.

"Elsa," her sister's voice is muffled, and Elsa can feel the vibrations against her shoulder through the thick material of her dress. "I'm sorry you're so unhappy."

Anna clings to her for a while, and Elsa vaguely wonders if maybe she should rub her back or something, but her sister finally pulls away, and Elsa is shocked to see her wipe tears from her eyes. "Elsa, you know I would do anything for you, right?"

Elsa wants to reply, _well, I saw you die for me, so…_, but thinks better of it and settles for a simple nod.

"You can ask me for help."

"I know."

"Anything you need."

"I know."

"Do you?" Anna's eyes are searching, studying. But for what? _The truth._ Elsa knows the trouble Anna would go to, has gone to, for her, and she knows what Anna is capable of, but would she ever really ask her sister for help. _No_, a small voice inside her head answers, _Anna's done enough_. The last thing she would do is ask Anna for help, Elsa realizes. And Anna knows it. "Elsa, I want to help, and I know you think you need to be strong, but I'm right here. You don't have to do it alone anymore."

Elsa is reminded forcefully of the words Anna called from the other side of her bedroom door the day of their parents' funeral, the words she called up the stairs to her at the palace on the mountain. A standing offer.

"I'm your sister," Anna whispers, her voice strained. "Why won't you let me be your sister?"

Elsa swallows. The answer so is easy, it's right there on the tip of her tongue, but before she's decided whether or not she's going to actually say it, Anna turns. "The Princes will wonder where we are," she calls over her shoulder, her voice noticeably frosty, as she heads toward the dining room.

_I don't know how._

* * *

Elsa doesn't believe it would have been possible for breakfast to end fast enough. Anna maintains a stony silence toward Elsa and, excepting a short snippet of conversation with Anton, makes sure to answer any questions posed directly to her in as few words as possible. The meal is also punctuated by concerned glanced from Rolf and curious glances from Erlend and Ivar. Elsa appreciates that Rolf apparently did not tell his brothers that when he ran into her in the kitchen the previous night, she was stealing a bottle of wine, but it probably wouldn't make a difference if he had, because she is sure she looks ill.

When she finally pushes her chair away from the table and dismisses everyone, Anna shoots for one of the doors—the one that lets out closest to the garden—and, at a more leisurely pace, Anton follows. Ivar mutters something about drafting a report, and Elsa desperately hopes it's a report about the negotiation that he's sending back to the Southern Isles and not something he's planning on proposing to her. Erlend takes his time getting up from the table, but Rolf seems to be stalling. Elsa realizes it would be only too easy to make a quick escape back to her study, but… she doesn't. For a reason she can't quite pinpoint, she stays put until Erlend finally nods to his brother and exits the same way as Anna and Anton.

Rolf chuckles. "Took him long enough."

Elsa nods. "He can certainly move slowly when he wants to."

"I'm sure it was intentional. He's probably off to the garden to tease Anton about his new love interest," he says with a smile that quickly disappears. "Not that your sister—not that he would ever—not after—even Anton knows that would be—" He looks completely mortified. "I'm sorry it was—"

"A joke," Elsa finishes, remembering her recent misstep.

"An ill-planned one," he agrees. "My apologies."

She shakes her head. "You wanted to speak with me, I believe?"

"Yes," he replies quickly, relieved for the change of subject. "I just wanted to know… how was the rest of your evening. I'm sorry if it's not my place to ask," he adds quickly at the sight of her face.

"No," she sighs. "I've just been over this with Anna already this morning."

"Oh," he replies. "Is that why she…" he jerks his head toward the door. "Left so quickly?"

"It's related," Elsa answers simply.

"If I'm overstepping, I apologize," he begins, and Elsa has never heard a statement she liked follow those words. "But I do have twelve brothers. If there's anything I'm equipped to offer advice about, it's trouble with siblings."

"I can't imagine you've ever found yourself in a situation quite like this," Elsa answers.

"Again, twelve brothers. Try me," he replies, and he almost looks smug.

There is still a part of Elsa that is screaming, _Southern Isles, _his _brother, they were raised together,_ but then is occurs to her that Rolf is one of only three people—herself included—who knows what she was doing last night, and he's apparently kept it that way, even though he and his brothers surely could have found a way to exploit the situation, and that has to count for something. And then her conversation with Anna comes back to her, and _you're allowed to have friends_, and maybe this is something she can afford to reveal to just this one person.

"We had—I don't even really know if it was a fight."

"You don't know…" he repeats slowly.

"Well, if it was, it's the first we've had in about thirteen years."

He emits a low whistle. "Impressive."

"Not really," she answers shortly. "Prince Rolf… Rolf. How much exactly did your brother tell you about the way the Princess and I grew up?"

"Hans?" Rolf's expression darkens at once and he turns to look at the window. "I haven't spoken to Hans since he returned."

"What?" Elsa asks. "Why not?"

Rolf shrugs. "No desire to. He undermined the credibility of our entire kingdom. Do you know we've already lost three of our trading partners? All because little Hans wanted to be a King. Completely thoughtless. No, as far as I know, the only people who have seen him are my father, Nikolai, and Ivar. Erlend and Simen and Emil talked about it—guilt, you know—but I don't think any of them ever actually went. Why do you ask?" Elsa can't imagine simply shut Anna out because of anger or embarrassment, regardless of her sister's transgressions, but, she supposes, if you've got twelve brothers, perhaps you can spare one.

"So you know nothing of our upbringing?" she presses.

Rolf thinks for a moment. "Only that the gates have been closed since I was twelve."

Elsa takes a deep breath. "Anna and I did not grow up together. There was an… accident involving my ice powers—you know about those at least—when we were young. That was when the gates were closed, and I was confined to my bedroom."

"By confined, you mean…"

"I didn't leave," Elsa explains. "I was to stay in seclusion until I learned to control my powers. Unfortunately, that never quite happened. As a result… Anna and I don't know each other very well." Her eyes flick up to Rolf's face. His mouth is hanging upon in that way that is so unbecoming of his position, yet is becoming very familiar to her. "And, as a result," she repeats. "I don't really know how to have a sister anymore." She's never spoken the words aloud, but now that she has, they seem even more pathetic than she's ever realized. It really shouldn't be hard, should it? Rolf and his brothers seem to have the whole sibling thing down pat.

It takes Rolf a moment to regain his capacity for speech. When he does, he clears his throat. "I'm so sorry. I… didn't know."

Elsa shakes her head, holds up a hand. "No one did. But the past is in the past. It's the present I'm concerned with."

"Well, umm…" he looks completely lost. "What's not to know."

"That's half the problem," Elsa replies. "I don't know what I don't know. It's just… not coming together."

"What did she say specifically?" Rolf asks. His brow is furrowed and he has dropped every pretense of formality as he leans against the wall, hand on his chin.

"She said…" Elsa pauses to recall the exact wording. "She asked me why I wouldn't let her be my sister."

"And why won't you?"

Elsa groans, frustrated. "I think she wants me to… I don't know, tell her all my secrets over wine or something." On second thought, probably not over wine. "But, if you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly the bear-your-soul type."

"I don't know," Rolf replies slowly. "You're doing a pretty good job right now."

"But that's different," Elsa insists.

"How?"

"I don't have to protect you."

_And because this the first time I've ever done it_.

"Because telling Anna what you feel is so dangerous?"

"Because feeling is dangerous." It's out before Elsa realizes what she's said. She covers her hand with her mouth and wills it to be taken back, but to no avail.

"Dangerous to Anna?" Rolf asks, his voice much softer, level despite the shock written across his face. "Or dangerous to you?"

"Dangerous to everyone," Elsa replies, and she clasps her hands together behind her back because she can feel the ice spider-ing its way across her knuckles, and she knows that if she touches something, it will freeze. "Now, if you'll excuse me," she says. "I have some urgent business to attend to."

Elsa is one hundred percent sure Rolf can see right through her excuse, and if she wasn't so distracted, maybe she would feel bad about leaving him so abruptly, but at the moment, she can't quite bring herself to care, because she's let him crack her, and maybe Anna is okay with that, but for the girl who's gone eight years without even being touched, it is something else entirely.

* * *

Elsa is not entirely sure she can expect her sister to join her that evening in her study, but, like clockwork, she hears the door creak open behind her as she reaches into the crate on her desk for the new file—the one she requested yesterday—and there is Anna.

"You came," Elsa comments, careful to keep the surprise detectable in her voice to a minimum.

"Of course I came," Anna replies, picking her way through the accumulating sea of crates to the desk.

Elsa shrugs. "I just thought maybe… you were still angry at me."

Anna sighs and shakes her head. "I wasn't angry. Frustrated."

"I am trying, Anna."

"I know," Anna sighs. "I just thought it would be… more like it was before."

"That we could pick up where we left off?" Elsa asks. Anna nods. "I would love to," the Queen continues. "But, Anna, you're not five anymore, and you've grown, and you've lived, and you've learned, and even though I'm not eight anymore, I feel like I am."

"What do you mean?" Anna's eyes widen.

"I mean…" Elsa squeezes her eyes closed, contorts her face into, what she is sure, is a pained expression, and forces the words out. "I mean, I don't know how to do this. I can't just jump back to where we were or where we should be because I don't know how. I don't know how to be a sister anymore. I'm sorry." _Don't cry. _"I'm not the person you remember. I haven't been for a long time. And I can't pretend to be."

A beat of silence. "That's not what I want."

"It's not?"

"No, Elsa," Anna smiles shakily. "_You_'re my sister. You. Whoever you are right now. I just want you to talk to me."

Elsa nods, staring determinedly down at her hands in her lap, her face growing red. "I'm glad you came."

"Oh come on," Anna says. "Do you really think I would miss out on this? It's too mysterious. How often do you get to be caught up in a scandal?"

"Anna, this is not, nor will it ever been a scandal, if all goes according to plan," Elsa replies. "I'm going to go over the correspondence between our father and King Thomas in the year before my birth, so you're back on Daniel Kristiansen."

"Oh, come on, Elsa," Anna whines. "I'm the one who found the King. Why can't I have him?"

"Because," Elsa replies carefully. "It's delicate."

"And what?" Anna argues. "You don't think I can be discreet?"

"Anna, you're about the least subtle person I've ever met."

"That's not saying very much," Anna points out, and Elsa has to admit, she has a fair point. She takes a breath, collects her thoughts.

"Anna, this is a King we're talking about," she replies, carefully keeping her voice level. "A popular King who has been very good to us in the past."

"I know that," Anna answers exasperatedly.

"We can't afford for word to get out."

"I'm not going to tell anyone," her sister argues. "Elsa, who would I tell? Kristoff? Prince Anton? Something tells me both of them would know to keep their mouths shut anyway."

"_You_ should know to keep your mouth shut."

"Elsa I do," Anna insists. "Is this because of what I told Kristoff? Because I didn't know that was a secret."

Elsa sighs. She could tell Anna that she should have, that her common sense should have told her that any question of the Queen's legitimacy would be a secret, but she does not want to fight. Not again. She places her head in her hands. "Anna, please?"

"Okay," her sister replies, begrudgingly but without further argument.

"His file is in the crate."

"Okay."

She hears shuffling near her head and then footsteps. When she finally looks up, Anna is throwing herself onto one of the couches. The same couch, Elsa realizes. She wonders if it had been Anna's couch when this study belonged to their father. Elsa had always chosen the ornate, straight-backed chair the few times she'd been called in. Anna, of course, had never been around.

"What am I looking for again?" she hears.

"Horse training credentials," she replies. "Or anything at all to suggest he might be good with horses."

Anna nods as Elsa spreads her own papers in front of her. They are already in chronological order, thank goodness. She picks up the first. It is marked September a year and a half before her birth and two months before the King's first visit. It looks relatively short, and the handwriting in miniscule and scratchy. She brings the paper close to her nose to decipher it.

_HM King Jonas of Arendelle, _

_ Greetings Jonas! It has been quite some time. I was beginning to believe I would never hear from you again. All is quiet here, now that a peace agreement has finally been reached. I hope you have found the same in Arendelle. Primrose has adjusted to palace life very well. Thank you for asking. She seems a natural entertainer. I hope Matilda is in good health, as well. I am sure you are thankful to have her back, but I notice you haven't mentioned her._

_ I must admit, I was surprised to receive your letter, not only because I have not seen or heard from you since the reception. Your tone seemed very odd. Covert operations are unlike you, Jonas, and I cannot help but wonder what sort of proposal is so sensitive it cannot be relayed in a letter or via a messenger. Nonetheless, I will, of course, come and hear what you have to say. Primrose and I will sail at dawn on November 12__th__, and I expect we shall be with you no later than the 16__th__. _

_ I look forward to our reunion and sorely hope I will have the opportunity to challenge you to a polo rematch. I am afraid I cannot allow you to hold that prestigious title long-term. _

_Until we meet again,_

_HM King Thomas of Corona_

Elsa's stomach drops. She wishes desperately that she had her father's side of the conversation, but those letters are, no doubt, in Corona. The peace arrangements are surely with the Southern Isles—she is aware of a war that ended nearly two years before her birth—but what is this about her mother? Where was she back from? She quickly pushes the letter to the side and reaches for the next one, praying for answers. Surely the proposal the King is referring to is just some trade agreement. A… secret trade agreement. Yes, that will be it. She moves on to the next letter.

_HM King Jonas of Arendelle,_

_ As you know, I was quite taken aback by your proposal. At first I was unsure if my conscience would allow it. I am sorry I was unable to give you an answer before my departure. I wanted to discuss the matter with Primrose at length for reasons I am sure you understand. _

_ For now, I have decided to move forward with what we discussed. Naturally, I will need to arrange to return to Arendelle. I now understand the necessity of keeping the specifics of your plan out of letters and away from prying eyes. Can you imagine the uproar? Primrose and I shall arrange to rejoin you after the first of the year. She so loved Arendelle. I only hope that Matilda enjoyed her company as much as she enjoyed Matilda's._

_Until next time,_

_HM King Thomas of Corona_

Frustration is churning inside Elsa now. All she needs is for King Thomas to mention something, anything, that might suggest the content of these plans. So far, all she has is that they seem to be in a moral grey area and the King felt the need to discuss them with his wife. She has to admit, it isn't looking good.

"Elsa?"

"Yes?" She looks up from the letter. She'd almost forgotten Anna was in the room.

"Elsa, there's nothing in here about horses," Anna says as she pulls herself off the couch.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Anna replies. "The word, horse, isn't even mentioned in this dossier. It says he was an twenty-two-year-old, unmarried lumberjack with a sister. Nothing about horses."

"Let me see it," Elsa holds out her hand. "Please," she adds at the look on her sister's face.

Elsa flips through the pages, skimming each one, but Anna is right. For all she can tell from this file, Daniel Kristiansen had never even seen a horse when he'd been invited to the castle. "You know what else is missing?" she asks.

Anna nods slowly, and of course, Elsa realizes, her sister would have noticed as well. She'd signed hundreds of them only a few months ago. Her enthusiasm had practically bled into her signature, Elsa had noticed, as she'd signed her own name above Anna's two hundred and fifty times, tiny shards of ice forming around the pen as she wrote. "An invitation."

* * *

A/N: Hey guys. Once again, I find myself apologizing for the wait. Midterms are not over. Also, for some reason, this chapter just wasn't coming to me. I wrote like, the first two paragraphs, and then I just stared at them for like, three days, but then, yesterday, inspiration struck and I wrote half the chapter in one sitting. While I'm sort of on the subject, I am working on my next story, but that, by no means, means I won't be finishing this one. It's pretty standard for me to start planning the next fic once I'm about halfway through my current one. That way, when I finish this one, I'll be able to start that one right away. Also, because I got this question from someone and figured I'd go ahead and address it, but this next story is not set in the same timeline (but I won't rule out a sequel at some point in the future).

So far, I've made three decisions in this fanfiction that I expected to get flamed for, and, so far, I haven't received any flames, so either you all agree with the decisions I've been making or those of you who don't are just being really classy about it. Thanks for that!

Anyway, those reviews keep me going. They're what I reread when I'm stuck, so keep them coming! Thanks everyone and I'll see you next update, which will hopefully before next Tuesday!


	10. Battle Scars

Warning: The fourth (final) scene in this chapter gets fairly dark and violent. It may be a scene to avoid if you're easily triggered.

* * *

The corridor is dark, the rising sun blocked by the high walls. It is still early, and the castle is quiet. Elsa has to admit, sometimes she misses the solitude—not being in solitude all the time, but being able to hear herself think over the warnings of advisors, the excitement of her sister, the skepticism of Princes. It's exhausting. She can hear the birds sing through the large windows.

She hasn't been past her parents' portrait since the night Rolf told her of the rumor, but, she realizes as she turns a corner, there is it, and it catches her off guard. She is met with the familiar, solemn gaze of her father, the warmer, kinder stare of her mother. Someone calls to her.

"Your Majesty! You're up early."

"Prince Ivar?"

He is standing directly in front of the painting looking at her over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth turned up in a grin.

"What are you doing here?"

"I was taking a walk," he replies. _A walk?_ Elsa raises her eyebrows. His quarters are on the other side of the castle.

"Into the residence?" she asks casually as she approaches.

His smile falters. "Not intentionally," he replies quickly. "Is that where I am?"

"You'll find you are," Elsa answers stiffly.

"My apologies," he says. He looks back at the painting in front of him. "I saw the portrait and I wanted to get a closer look."

"And may I inquire as to what interests you so much about the late King and Queen?"

It takes him a moment to answer. "I wanted to know what she looked like."

_What?_

"What?"

"The Queen," he gestures up to the portrait. "She was a very strong woman, you know."

"I daresay I know better than you," Elsa replies.

"Of course," Ivar nods. "Of course you would have heard all about it. I remember her being in the castle, but I never saw her. We weren't allowed in the dungeons when there were prisoners there. Of course that didn't always stop us," he offers a hesitant grin. "But security was heavier during the war."

"Excuse me?"

"During the—you don't know?" Confusion must be visible in her expression because Ivar suddenly nervous. This is the first time she has ever seen him look nervous.

"To what are you referring?"

"About the war?"

"The war between Arendelle and Corona and the Southern Isles?" Elsa asks. "I know all about that." _Obviously_.

"With all due respect, Your Majesty," Ivar answers. "I was referring to your mother. To her being captured?"

"What?"

The Prince looks like he's just let something slip. Elsa is thrown temporarily, because it is so uncharacteristic of him. "I don't suppose I could persuade you that you're really just as well off not knowing?"

Elsa grits her teeth. "Not a chance."

"Very well," he replies. "How much do you know of the end of the war?"

"Arendelle and Corona attacked the Southern Isles with every ship in their fleet," Elsa recalls. "Your defenses were devastated."

"Yes," Ivar says. "But do you know why it suddenly became so essential for Arendelle to win the war quickly?"

This is a question Elsa has never considered. In all the history books she has read, she cannot remember a single one giving the answer. It seems such an obvious inquiry. Her father had played all the cards in his deck at once, she realized, sailing the entire Royal Navy right into the Southern Isles' northern-most harbor. A very risky move indeed.

The confusion must be evident on her face, because Prince Ivar does not wait for an answer to continue. "About a year before the war ended, the Southern Isles Royal Navy captured the _Keiserinne_. It was a ship from Arendelle, and, as our men discovered as they searched, it was carrying the Queen. She was in our dungeon for a total of fourteen months." Elsa's mouth falls open. Ivar sighs. "We kept trying to get a look at her, Nikolai, Jakob, and I, but we were never able to get past the guards. The only person allowed in was the King, and I think my mother may have visited once or twice."

She sucks in a sudden breath. She is picturing her mother in one of her signature deep purple gowns sitting in a small cell in a dark and dirty dungeon, usually pristine hair untidy from lack of care. She is picturing three boys in their early teens trying desperately to get a glimpse of her, the stoic Queen of Arendelle, like some sort of circus animal. She remembers her mother, so gentle and caring, and she doesn't believe she spent over a year in prison. She _doesn't_ believe it.

"If you're telling me this to distract me from our dealings—" she begins.

"No, Your Majesty," Ivar shakes his head quickly. "Absolutely not."

As much as she doesn't want to believe him, it occurs to her that she pressed Ivar to tell her in the first place. On the other hand, he hadn't exactly put up much in resistance. It is beginning to look like a theme with the Princes of the Southern Isles, them knowing more information about her own family than she does. If she chooses to believe Ivar, that is.

He is looking back up at the portrait. "What my father did to her," he shakes his head. "It's no wonder he didn't want anyone to see… completely barbaric." He turns back to Elsa. "She was a very strong woman," he repeats. "I'd have been proud had she been the Queen of my nation." He bows. "I should return to my chambers. I have a letter to finish drafting before breakfast. Your Majesty." He turns and walks swiftly down the corridor, opposite the direction from which she'd come.

She watches his back as she goes and wonders how, as the Queen, she could be so completely uninformed. If this was true, why hadn't anyone told her? _Because they were afraid of you_, the voice in her head replies, but she pushes the thought from her mind. After all, Anna doesn't know either. Does she?

_Does she?_

* * *

"Anna!" Elsa cannot believe she is doing this, knocking desperately at her sister's door at the break of dawn, but here she is. "Anna, open up!"

She can hear a loud groan and shuffling noises from inside the room, and a moment later, the door is swinging open, revealing a very bedheaded Anna rubbing her eyes. "Elsa?" she yawns. "Is something the matter?"

"No," Elsa replies quickly. "No, not at all. I just… had a question I wanted to ask you?"

"It couldn't wait like, another three hours?" Anna's eyes are still half closed and she is leaning heavily against the doorframe.

"Oh," Elsa says. "Of course it can. I'll just… come back."

She begins to turn away. "Elsa… wait." She stops and looks back over her shoulder. "Come in."

Anna backs back into her room and Elsa appreciatively follows her. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"Not at all," Anna answers, stifling another yawn. "I've been up for hours. Besides, now I can watch the sun come up." She rubs her eyes "That's supposed to be pretty, I guess."

"I know." Elsa remembers the sunrise she witnessed from the North Mountain the morning after the coronation, and she doesn't think she's ever seen anything more spectacular.

Anna drops back into the bed and pulls the blanket up to her chin. "So what's the question?" she asks, patting the empty space by her feet.

Elsa carefully takes a seat at the end of the bed and absently plays with the corner of the blanket. "Do you know how the war with the Southern Isles ended?"

"The one right before we were born?"

Elsa nods without looking up.

"We sailed a bunch of ships over and crushed them," Anna replies. "Us and Corona. Why?"

Elsa ignores the question. "Do you know… do you know why we ended it when we did?"

"Well, it had gone on long enough, hadn't it?" Anna answers. "I mean, eight years. Sheesh, that's a long time. That's longer than we were friends when we were little." A stab of guilt. "And I guess Father was probably in kind of a hurry to get Mother back."

Elsa's heart drops. So it is true. And it really was only her. "You knew about that?"

"About what?" Anna asks. "Mother? Of course. Why wouldn't I? Wait a minute…" The Queen can almost see her sister putting the pieces together. "You… you didn't know, did you? Your tutor didn't tell you about it?"

"I didn't have a tutor," Elsa replies quietly. "I was given books. And it wasn't discussed in any of them, no." She wonders why she wasn't just _told_. Surely her parents knew that particular piece of knowledge would be important. It was an oversight, perhaps, she tells herself. No one realized that it wasn't mentioned in her reading. But wouldn't her mother still have wanted to discuss it with her? _They were afraid to tell you_, that voice in her head repeats. _They were afraid of what you'd do_. God, if she'd only known… first of all, she would have never let Anna and Hans… never let them… what, exactly? She'd already refused to bless the marriage.

"But you know now," Anna is responding. "Did someone tell you?"

Elsa nods. "Prince Ivar."

"And you wanted to make sure it was true?" Anna asks. Another nod. "Well, I'm afraid it is. I asked Mother about it, you know. A couple times."

Elsa looks up, her eyes wide. "And?"

"She didn't really like to talk about it," Anna answers. "She told me it was the worst thing that ever happened to her—well, that's not exactly shocking—and she told me if I was ever on a ship when it was captured, she wanted me to jump off and try to swim. She told me not to be arrested at any cost."

"Ivar did say that the King did… horrible things to her."

Anna nods. "There were scars. She didn't like anyone to see, but fifteen years of living with her, it was kind of impossible not to." Elsa watches her sister draws shapes in the blanket with her finger. "What did the Prince say?"

"Not much," the Elsa answers. "No one was allowed to see her except the King and Queen."

"Huh," Anna replies.

"What…" Elsa hesitates, unsure of whether she really wants to know. She needs to, she decides. "What kind of scars?"

Anna shrugs evasively. Elsa can tell that her sister is uncomfortable now, and part of her wants to say, never mind, it's not important, except that it is important. This is extremely important, because it's her mother and what she is learning makes her want to cry. _Conceal. Don't feel._ "Wrists," Anna finally replies, clasping a hand around her left wrist. "And ankles. And some on her back. And one on her neck." She draws a slanted line across the side of her neck with a finger. Elsa's mind goes back to the dresses her mother used to wear, the dark, heavy fabric, always with long sleeves and high collars.

"Are you okay?"

Elsa looks back at her sister, head pressed against the pillows, a look of concern playing across her face. Elsa nods once, firmly. "I'm fine."

"Elsa—"

"I just need time to think." Elsa replies, holding up a hand. She stands up and begins to make her way to the door. "I'll be in my study."

* * *

Elsa is fairly sure that she hasn't moved for at least an hour. The sun is up now, and she behind her desk, hands clasped under her chin, same as when she first sat down, when the idea comes to her.

She immediately reaches for the pen she always keeps on her desk. She taps the end of it on her chin a few times before setting it to paper.

_HM King Thomas of Corona,_

Easy enough, she thinks. Only she has never corresponded with another monarch, or anyone else for that matter, for personal reasons, and she has no idea how to continue.

_I hope this letter finds you and your family in good health. First, I must apologize once again for the conditions the Princess and Prince Consort were forced to endure following my coronation. I express my hope that they found accommodations in Arendelle to be otherwise satisfactory. _

It's a good start, she tells herself. Best to begin with formalities, ease into the request.

_During my brief time on the throne, I have been reviewing the late King's correspondences. I came across an anomaly that I am hoping you will be able to explain. I see that you spent a great deal of time in Arendelle during the year after the war, but I have been unable to find any record of why. Given that you visited five times in the space of a year, I find this omission a bit alarming._

She thinks for a moment, tapping the end of the pen on her chin once more.

_Thank you, by the way, for your words of encouragement over the past few years. I am sure you now understand why I thought it best not to answer until now, but I will be forever grateful for the support you offered._

_Best,_

_HM Queen Elsa of Arendelle _

There.

She sets her pen down decisively and folds the letter into thirds before tucking it into an envelope and marking it with the royal seal.

She has just replaced the seal in its case when there is a knock on the door. "Come in, Anna!"

A pause. "It's not Anna." Her stomach drops. It's Rolf.

"Can I help you?"

"Umm," he replies. "May I still come in?"

Elsa sighs. "Sure."

A moment later, the door creaks open and Rolf is stepping over the threshold. There is a deep crease between his eyebrows, and Elsa knows before he even tells her, "Ivar told us what happened this morning."

She really should have known. She's grown accustomed to Rolf and his discretion, and she'd forgotten that Ivar is all business, that she an Ivar are not… are not friends. "Is he drafting a plan to use my emotional instability against me as we speak?"

Rolf looks surprised. "No, not—I don't think so," he answers. "He was just… thrown off, I think."

"I see."

"You really didn't know?"

She nods briefly. "It's beginning to seem I'm the only one."

"Why weren't you told?" he asks.

She shrugs. "An oversight, I guess." _They were afraid._

"Pretty big oversight."

"So it would seem." She hesitates. "Your brother mentioned… what happened to her… while she was in your dungeons."

"My father's dungeons," Rolf corrects. "And I'm afraid I don't know. I was only two years old when the war ended, you see."

"Oh."

"But Ivar would know—"

"I'm not asking Ivar," she interrupts. She takes a deep breath, calms herself down. "I just… wondered if _you_ would be able to tell me." And then she realizes it, that Anna was right. She _trusts _Rolf.

"I'm sorry you had to find out from my brother," Rolf takes a seat in one of the chairs opposite the desk, and it occurs to Elsa that he was probably waiting for her permission, but she finds that she is not at all bothered that he helped himself. She feels that perhaps he's earned it.

"He was very tactful about it," she assures him.

"Yes, I'd be surprised if he wasn't," Rolf answers. "At least you didn't find out from Anton. Or from me."

"Yes, for once you were not the bearer of bad news," she says, but in reality, she thinks it would have been better if it had been Rolf. Yes, someone… someone friendly certainly would have made it easier.

His eyes flit to newly sealed envelope on the desk. "Replying to a suitor?"

She is about to answer with a defiant and slightly offended _No!_ when she realizes that he is smiling. _A joke_. "I'll have you know I am in very high demand."

He laughs. "That wouldn't surprise me." And then he straightens up. "Did you know," he asks. "That you were once offered my hand?"

The idea shouldn't surprise her, she knows, because common sense dictates that, given her status as the heir to Arendelle's throne, her father would have been receiving marriage proposals since her birth, but the idea never seemed real to her. Perhaps because she has always known, or known since she was about thirteen anyway, that marriage is nothing more than a pipedream, something that will always be out of her grasp.

"Mine and Anton's," Rolf is saying. "And Erlend's, and Simen's, and Emil's, and Peder's, and Artur's." He rolls his eyes. "My father is a very persistent man."

She narrows her eyes. "But not Hans?"

"No…" Erlend furrows his brow, thinks for a moment. "No, not Hans. He was offered, I believe, to Maldonia and Andalasia, but not to Arendelle."

"And neither of them accepted?"

"The Princess of Maldonia had just been betrothed to some Prince from Genovia," Rolf explained. "And the King of Andalasia had some bad blood with the Southern Isles. My father was probably trying to clear it up by offering up Hans, but he was certainly more persistent with Arendelle than anyone else. Your access to silver, I think, and the fact that the war had just ended and he was trying to rebuild a relationship."

There it is again. The war.

"All I know is that our father needed a lot of good will from Arendelle," Rolf is saying. "I don't think the King would do business with us again until I was about eight. And then my father tried to have us betrothed when I was nine. Personally, I think he, uhh… jumped the gun a little bit, so to speak."

"Well," Elsa pushes herself out of her chair and makes her way to one of the windows. "If my mother really was brutalized in your father's dungeons," just saying that word, just saying _brutalized_ in the same sentence with _my mother_ makes her eyes water, and she is glad Rolf can no longer see her face, "I can't imagine my father would have been very eager to have us married. He loved her very much, you know."

Behind her, she can hear Rolf get up as well. "I'm sure he did." His voice is getting closer. "By all accounts, she was a remarkable woman."

"I wish I'd known her better." It is one of those admissions that Elsa never intends to voice, the kind that tend to slip out when Rolf is around.

"You didn't know her?"

"I told you," Elsa replies. "I was confined to my bedroom."

"And she didn't visit you?" The disbelief in his voice breaks her heart.

"She did," Elsa answers. She takes a breath, and she could kick herself because it is audibly shaky. "But never for… personal reasons. We didn't talk much." She feels a hand on her shoulder. It makes her jump, but Rolf does not pull away and neither does she. She doesn't know what to do with this new development, so she simply continues. "I think I made her uncomfortable. Nervous maybe, or guilty."

"I'm sure that's not true," he says quickly.

She shakes her head. "You wouldn't know."

"I wouldn't?" he asks. "My upbringing wasn't perfect, you know."

"I didn't mean to imply—" she begins, but Rolf interrupts her.

"That's the thing about having ten older brothers," he continues. "I think my mother got tired of raising children around number six. I've heard she positively fawned over Nikolai, Ivar, and Jakob, and Tomas and Mathias didn't do too badly either, but she was much less involved with Peder and Artur, and Emil, Simen, Erlend, Anton, Hans, and I were entirely raised by nannies. She really disliked Hans. We could all tell. Maybe she saw a darkness in him that the rest of us didn't."

"I'm sorry," Elsa replies, because it is polite, but she can't help but think that their situations are entirely different, and what Rolf experience is entirely irrelevant to what she experienced.

Rolf shakes his head. "Elsa—I mean, Your Majesty—listen to me. I know I never met her, but… that just doesn't fit with what I've heard about your mother."

"Well," Elsa looks over at him. "As you said, you never met her."

"You were her daughter," he argues, his voice raising despite himself. "I know she loved you. What's not to love?"

He has the look she saw Ivar express this morning, like he's let something slip, but she doesn't know what, so she dismisses the thought from her head. "Yes, I believe she did," the Queen answers quietly. "But I frightened her all the same."

Rolf's hand tightens on her shoulder, but he remains silent.

* * *

His voice is as deadly in her ear as his hand is around her neck.

"No one will even miss you."

She struggles to speak, but his hand is constricting her airway. She wants to scream. She wants to call for help. She struggles against the body pinning her to the stone wall.

"You're not even really the Queen."

Hans' nose is mere inches from hers, and she can feel his breath in her face when he speaks. His eyes are narrowed as if in anger, but his face is contorted into some semblance of a smile. It is the face of a cruel man, she thinks, the face of a man who cannot wait to kill. The hand tightens on her neck.

She gags, he mouth opening and closing wildly, desperate to draw in a breath. He is going to kill her, she realizes. This is how she will die. In her own dungeon, while her sister's coronation happens several floors above her head. Hans is right. She will not be missed.

Her nails claw at his forearm, but the youngest Prince of the Southern Isles only laughs. At least if he'd killed her on the fjord it would have been quick, she thinks. This is drawn out. This is painful. This is a man bent on watching her suffer. She will not beg for death.

Hans' face is beginning to blur around the edges, his voice becoming muffled. _This is the end_. But suddenly, the hand is gone and she hits the floor with a hard thud.

"Surely you didn't think I would make it that easy," his voice is condescending. "Not after everything you put me through."

The toe of a boot connects with her stomach just hard enough to push her onto her back. Something cold tips her chin up. The blade of a sword.

"Oh, Elsa," and she's never heard anyone say her name with quite so much hatred. The point of the blade digs into the underside of her chin. Something warm dribbles down her neck. "You can be so… stupid, sometimes."

"What if I didn't kill you at all?" he wonders aloud, and the sword is gone from her throat, edging along the side of her face instead. "What if I merely…" A hard jab. Liquid running into her hair. "Blinded you."

And then the sword, like the hand, is gone. She brings her fingers gingerly to her neck. They are sticky, covered in red.

"Watching you suffer…" Hans' voice is coming from farther away now. He must have moved to the other side of the cell, Elsa thinks. "Would be just as much fun as watching you die."

The sound of metal hitting stone. She allows her head to loll to the side, despite a stinging pain shooting out from her throat. He is bent over the bed, gathering his things. She should try to use her powers, she tells herself, while his back is turned. Only she is too weak to move.

"I will think on it," he tells her. "While I deal with your sister."

Elsa sits bolt upright as her bedroom comes into focus. A pile of snow sits on her lap. Shaking, she throws the blanket off the bed and swings her legs over the side. She is panting heavily as she pushes herself up. She grips the bedpost for support. This is easily the most intense dream she has ever had, except that there is was no Anna to wake her this time.

_It was a dream_, she tells herself, _only a dream_, but her eyes travel to the shadows in the corners of the room, because she knows that if she refuses to look away, there is no chance of the Southern Isles' thirteenth Prince materializing out of them.

* * *

A/N: So, it occurred to me that, while I am taking longer to update now, these chapters are twice as long as the first four or five, so there's that to think about.

Woo! Development for the Queen. One thing I love about these recent Disney movies is how well the King and Queen are developed in the five minutes they're on screen (Tangled did the same thing), but I definitely wanted to explore her character a little more. So there's another bombshell, though, interestingly, still not the original one to which I referred at the end of chapter four. That one is coming up in the next chapter or two, and is honestly not as big a deal as these first two.

As a side note, have any of you ever been writing a fanfiction, and then you end up shipping two characters that you have absolutely no intention of ever pairing up? It's not that fun. Yeah, I don't know why, but I ship Anna and Anton quite a bit now. I don't know if it's come through in the story at all (if it has, it hasn't been intentional), but in my head, there's a lot of chemistry there.

Anyway, I had a lot of trouble with every scene this chapter except the second one, and I don't feel like it's as strong in general as the past few. Hopefully you guys don't feel the same way, but feel free to let me know if you do. I've just been going through some stuff in real life, nothing to worry about, just _feelings_, as Elsa would say. But, I digress. Review if you've got a second! I really want to take a minute to thank those of you who review regularly. I notice and I look forward to hearing from you every time. See you all next update!


	11. Now and Forever Yours

When Elsa enters the study the next morning, Anna is already lying on the couch, her feet propped up on one of the armrests, looking quite bored. "You're up late."

"Who says I just woke up?" Elsa replies, carefully avoiding her sister's eye.

"Right," Anna answers. "You've been awake for hours. You've just been, what, braiding your hair?"

The Queen sighs, too tired to argue. "I didn't sleep well last night."

Anna's expression softens at once. "Another nightmare?"

"What is this?" Elsa asks, picking up a thick stack of papers off the desk. They are tied together in heavy twine and the ink on the first page is smudged, and she is absolutely positive they were not here last night.

"You're changing the subject—" Anna begins to argue, but Elsa interrupts.

"No, Anna, really, what is this?"

"Oh that," Anna waves her hand. "Just the treasury records from the year you were born. I had them pulled."

"Why?"

"Well, I figured if Mother and Father… you know, brought someone in to… well, they would have paid him right?"

The idea that there might be an unexplained financial discrepancy is so obvious to Elsa now that she cannot believe she didn't think of it on her own, but, of course, she's had other things on her mind.

"I mean, we don't have to look at them," Anna is saying. "But I thought, maybe—"

"Anna, this was brilliant."

"Oh," Anna looks shocked, and it takes her a moment to recompose herself. "Well, you know, I do try."

"Thank you," Elsa replies as she pulls away the twine and sinks into her chair as she begins to study the first page.

There is a rustle as Anna rolls off the couch and hurries behind the desk to Elsa's chair. After a moment Elsa looks up at her. "Do you intend to read this over my shoulder all day?"

"That's the plan," Anna replies happily.

"It's going to be very dry, you know."

"Yep."

Elsa shrugs. "Alright," she drops her eyes back to the page. "Suit yourself."

"So Elsa."

"Hmm?"

"What did Rolf want last night?"

"Ivar told him what happened," she replies shortly. "I guess he wanted to… check on me or something."

"What did he say?"

"I suppose he probably said something along the lines of, I told the Queen that we imprisoned her mother, during the—"

"No, what did Rolf say? To you?"

"Anna," Elsa groans. "How do you expect me to read this if you're going to keep asking me questions all morning?"

"You won't need to read very far," Anna replies simply.

"How do you—wait," Elsa looks up at her sister, narrowing her eyes. "Anna, do you already know what this says?"

Anna shakes her head, but the wide smile fighting its way onto her face betrays her. "Anna!"

"You were taking _forever_," she draws out the last word dramatically. "I didn't want to wait."

"And why not just tell me what you found?"

Anna shrugs innocently. "I wanted to see if you would find it faster. It took me twenty-eight minutes."

"I don't know how you expected me to find it at all with you talking nonstop in my ear."

"Hello? That was kind of the point," Anna replies. "I never said this was a _clean_ race."

Elsa takes a deep breath and slowly lays the stack of papers back on the table. "Well, would you care to tell me now?"

"Look at the bottom of the second page," Anna answers, still grinning broadly. "And the top of the fourth."

Elsa flips a page. A second later, she flips two more. "Wait, are there more of these?"

Anna nods. "Pages six, nine, and thirteen. I didn't look any farther."

The Queen is turning pages frantically now. Page fifteen. Page seventeen. Page twenty-two. "We never made war repayments to Corona," Elsa mutters. "We didn't owe them any money. None of their infrastructure was damaged, we used all our own ships—"

"Elsa, I had these pulled too," Anna picks her way back to the couch and holds up another stack of paper.

"What is that?"

"This is the treasury report from… from the month before Mother and Father died," she takes a deep breath. "The last one father signed. Look at the last charge."

Anna hands the paper to her and there it is, right below _Corona – Travel Expenses_ in handwriting that is unmistakably her father's, _War Repayments to Corona_. "I checked the next month," Anna is saying. "But that payment wasn't made."

"Because that was the first treasury report that was signed by me," Elsa breaths. She doesn't know what to say about this new development, what it seems to imply for her, so instead she asks, "Goodness, Anna, how long were you waiting for me?"

"Like, five hours," Anna replies. "But Elsa, that's not the point. Don't you see what this means?"

"It means," Elsa answers, her voice determinedly level. "That we paid, and were still paying up until three years ago, Corona for something that my advisors do not want anyone, myself included, to know about."

"Which means…" Anna prompts.

"It doesn't mean anything just yet, Anna," the Queen replies. "We don't even have solid evidence that this money went to Corona."

"Other than the fact that it says Corona," Anna points out.

"Yes," Elsa answers dryly. "Other than that. All we know is that a sum of $560 a month has been discretely paid out of the castle since… when exactly?"

"The last month that no payment went out was January the year you were born," Anna answers easily, as if she's memorized it.

"Pull Daniel Kristiansen's file back out."

"But, Elsa—"

"Anna." Elsa interrupts. "We've been through this. We cannot just assume that I am another King's bastard daughter because we like the idea."

"Fine," Anna mutters as she reaches for a nearby box.

"I need you to tell me when he was logged out of the visitor's wing," Elsa says, staring back down at the papers in front of her, at the cramped handwriting she would recognize anywhere as her father's.

She can hear pages rustle for a moment before Anna speaks. "February, the year you were born." Elsa counts backwards in her head. That iss five months before her birthday. The Queen would have been four months pregnant.

* * *

Elsa does not take lunch in the dining room. She cannot face the Princes, not all at once. By now, all of them will know how in the dark she was, how blissfully ignorant. She doesn't want the condescending looks, the wary queries as to whether she is okay. On their own… well, on their own the Princes are not so bad, most of them anyway, but together they are absolutely insufferable, especially when she is feeling like this.

Instead, she holes up in the library, because she is sure that Anna or Rolf or both will come looking for her, so her study is out of the question. And because she has missed this room the most. Of course, all she ever had to do was request a book from her parents or Kai and it was delivered to her chambers within the hour, but that was not the same as actually visiting the library, with its high shelves and even higher ceilings, the perpetual scent of old books, some with spines in languages she's never seen and can never hope to understand.

Today she selects a thick book with a blue cover titled, _The Arendelle-Corona War_. It's not much for comfort reading, but Elsa has always liked the story, even if it is true. Besides, she wants to be absolutely sure that there is no mention of her mother's imprisonment anywhere in this book. She can't imagine she would have missed it, but some part of her hopes, because if there is, that means it wasn't a secret. She wasn't left out of the loop intentionally.

She has just started Chapter 3, _The Southern Isles Rallies Its Forces_, when the door creaks open. She is curled up in the corner of one of the couches like a child and she immediately sits up and drops her feet to the floor. A man's silhouette is visible against the light of the hallway for a moment before the door closes. She hears footsteps and the man disappears among the shelves. It is not Kai, this man is far too tall and lean. One of the servants, perhaps, she tells herself as she returns to King Henrik's draft of all the boys in the land.

"Fancy meeting you here."

She looks up, startled. Erlend stands at the end of the couch, one hand buried in his pocket, the other clutching a deep red book to his side.

"I could say the same for you," she replies. "We're nowhere near your quarters. I don't imagine you stumbled in on accident."

"No," Erlend admits with a guilty half-smile. "Rolf and I found it on our second night here, after we gave your guards the slip."

"And you just thought you'd what, stop in for a quick read?"

"Yes, I did, as a matter of fact," he answers. "Forgive me, Your Majesty. Might I take a seat?"

She sighs. He doesn't look like he's going anywhere anytime soon, regardless. "You may."

"What have you got there?" he asks, gesturing to her book with his own. She lifts the book so he can read the title off the spine. "Ah," he replies. "I see. Studying up on your history?"

"You know perfectly well what I'm doing," she replies coldly.

A pause. "You won't find her in there, you know."

Elsa lowers the book. "The question is how you know."

"Well, it was all really hushed up," he replies. "Bad for business."

"I'd think it would be good for business for the Southern Isles," she answers.

"Yes," he gives her a significant look. "It would seem that way, wouldn't it?"

Elsa can feel the question rising in her throat. Surely, if Rolf doesn't know, Erlend doesn't know. After all, he was only four when the war ended. Four isn't that much older than two. It erupts out of her before she can stop herself. "Do you know what was done to her?"

It takes Erlend a moment to answer, and she wonders if he is deciding whether to tell her the truth or lie. Finally, he replies quietly, "Yes."

"And?"

"I'm…" and for the first time since he arrived, Erlend looks like he doesn't quite know how to handle the situation. "I'm not sure it's my place, Your Majesty."

"I'm making it your place," Elsa argues.

Erlend shakes his head. "No, I'm afraid not."

She wants to raise her voice. She wants to tell him that she is the Queen of this castle and he will do as she says, but, she realizes, Erlend has probably heard all that before. He's probably heard it from his father and from his oldest brother, the Crown Prince. Besides, that's not really her. It never really has been. Never once has she considered pulling rank on Anna.

"Have you ever read it?" Erlend is asking. He is back on his game, changing the subject. This time, only this time, she allows him to.

He is holding the book out to her. Across the front, it bears the title, _Grimm's Complete Fairy Tales._ "No," she replies. "I haven't."

He turns the book back around. "They're a bit sadistic," he says. "But we used to read them as children. Well, my brother, Artur, used to read them to us, Peder, Emil, Simen, Rolf, Anton, and I. He read all the way through the book when I was eight."

"Not… not Hans?" she asks, because he seems conspicuously absent, and she wants to know whether the Prince has simply left his youngest brother out of the story for her sake, or if this is one more thing he feels guilty about.

"Not Hans," Erlend confirms. "Though I think he would have enjoyed them. No, Artur never much liked Hans. Actually none of us much liked Hans. Rolf and Anton maybe. They were too young…" He trails off.

"Why?" she asks. "He can't have been all that bad when he was five."

"No, but he was the youngest," Erlend answers. "And he was never really one of us."

"Oh?"

Erlend shakes his head. "It doesn't seem like a big deal now that I'm older and I see the reasoning behind it, or it didn't until Hans returned from the coronation, but when we were younger it seemed so unfair." He grimaces. "We were so self-entitled, so resentful that we actually had to play with the King's bastard son."

"His _bastard_ son?" Elsa leans forward.

"Of course, you understand that's fairly commonplace in our kingdom," Erlend adds. "My father had at least four bastards, and my grandfather before him. They just weren't generally raised as Princes. We just wanted—this sounds horrible, but we wanted Hans to know he wasn't special. Of course, now that I think about it, I'm not sure he even knew what he was."

Elsa snaps the book shut. Erlend jumps, pulled from his thoughts. "If you'll excuse me," she begins to stand. "I have some pressing matters to attend to."

"Please don't leave on my behalf," Erlend stands as well. "I can go read in my quarters if you would like to stay."

"No," Elsa assures him. "I really must be getting back to work. I've taken my leave long enough."

"Of course," he replies as she turns toward the door. "Until next time, then."

* * *

Elsa is not surprised when Rolf finds her in her study that evening. She has failed to be present at two meals today. Anna perhaps has deduced that she needs space, but Rolf… well, as long as she has known Rolf, finding her when she wants to be alone has been one of his strongest suits.

"Your Majesty," he greets, bowing as he enters before foregoing formalities and dropping into the chair on the other side of the desk.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" Elsa asks with just a hint of sarcasm as she sets down her pen.

"My brother is talking about leaving," Rolf replies.

Elsa's mouth falls open. "He's happy with our agreement then?" She'd been under the impression he'd intended to continue their talks, reword some more sentences, move more commas around.

"I think he feels we've overstayed our welcome," Rolf answers significantly.

"I invited you to stay as long as—" she breaks off. "Oh, you mean after what he told me."

He nods. "I think he thought he'd be able to brush it off, but when you weren't at lunch or dinner…"

"I see," Elsa says with a sigh. "Well, I suppose it's his prerogative."

She isn't positive, but she thinks she sees the corners of Rolf's lips turn down just a fraction. "If you tell Ivar that this hasn't had an effect on you, I'm sure—"

"I don't make a habit out of lying to foreign dignitaries," Elsa interrupts. She pushes her chair away from her desk and moves toward the window.

"Listen," Rolf hastens to follow her. "I know we've caused you nothing but trouble since we arrived, but—"

Elsa holds up a hand. "It's not that. Actually, I find it refreshing that someone has finally been honest with me. I never realized how easy it must have been to keep me in the dark all those years."

"What do you mean?"

"Shut up in my room," Elsa replies. "I never even asked questions. Just believed what I was told."

"And what were you supposed to ask?" Rolf demands. "By the way, Mother, were you ever taken prisoner in the Southern Isles? You had no reason to suspect."

"That's just it," Elsa answers softly. "All of these lies. There must have been mistakes. There must have been inconsistencies that I failed to notice."

"I wish you wouldn't think that way."

"Oh?" she asks. "And how would you have me think?"

"That you didn't know," Rolf says. "That there was nothing you could do." His hand rests on the small of her back, and suddenly the room feels very hot.

Elsa shakes her head. "There's never nothing."

"Okay, normally I would applaud that kind of thinking," Rolf replies. "But under the circumstances…" He breathes a sigh. "I just wish you would stop blaming yourself for everything."

"I will, when everything stops being my fault."

He makes a sound of annoyance. "It's not—there's no point in arguing—maybe there is something you can do now, anyway."

"Like what?"

"Learn."

She raises an eyebrows. "Learn?"

Rolf shrugs. "What else would you do?"

"I don't know," she sighs. A long pause. "I hate this."

"What?" He furrows his brow.

"All this mystery," Elsa answers. "Why couldn't I have had a smooth ascension to the throne? Was that really too much to ask?" She sounds petulant, she realizes, like a child, but she's been holding in this desire for much too long and she needs to voice it. "All I wanted was to feel normal for a day. I'd have gone back to my life of solitude. All I wanted was one day."

Rolf is silent for a moment after that. "But… Elsa." He says it hesitantly, because they've been friendly for a while now, but this is the first time he has actually addressed her without the title, and he is testing it out. She remains silent. After all, she dropped his title days ago, and she is not wearing her crown anyway. "Why would you want one day when you now have an entire life?" His hand moves to her arm, and he's pushing gently, turning her around to face him. "And you're not normal. You'll never be normal, because… well," he is becoming very red, and, for a moment, she thinks he is going to shake his head and let the end of that sentence die on his tongue, but he doesn't. "You're extraordinary."

He's studying her intensely, like he is trying to make a very difficult decision, and she doesn't know what to say, so she simply stares back, lips slightly parted, completely dumbfounded. Finally, he breaks eye contact and shakes his head. "I meant it, by the way… when I said you were a great Queen, that is."

She swallows, nods. "Thank you."

He looks up at her and nods as well, and she thinks she almost sees disappointment in his eyes. "Shall we expect you at lunch tomorrow?"

Elsa sighs. "I suppose I can't hide forever."

"Nor do you need to," Rolf replies. "I assure you, we have no more dark secrets to spill." He laughs bitterly. "None that concern you, at least. There are—well, let's just say there are plenty of skeletons in my father's closet."

"I'm sure."

"But no more regarding Arendelle."

"And am I to simply take your word for it?" Elsa raises her eyebrows.

"Have I lied to you yet?"

He hasn't, she realizes. This is why she… trusts him. Rolf has never lied to her, nor have any of his brothers, save for the youngest, so, though a small voice in her head still screams, _Southern Isles!_, and, _Not to be trusted!_, she shakes her head.

"Well then… Elsa," he slides his hand down to her wrist and gives it a light squeeze. "Until tomorrow."

* * *

Elsa's hand shakes as she grips the knob on the top drawer of her nightstand and pulls. The letters rest beneath a spare hairbrush and a book of poems she had requested from the library four years ago and failed to return. She'd been certain she would never read them again, but the comfort they had offered had compelled her to keep them anyway.

There are four of them, all received within a three-year period, Elsa's first and last correspondence from a foreign nation as the heir apparent. She carefully pulls them apart. The ink on the first letter is smudged. Some of the damage is undoubtedly from sitting in a drawer for three years, but, she'd noticed even when she'd first received the letter, there are water marks that are clearly evidence of tears shed by writer, and some she herself had added. There are a couple of unfortunate drops of whine that testify to the unsteady hand so characteristic of her handling of the situation.

She smooths it out on the bed before bringing it close to her face to make out the elegant handwriting, so unlike her father's. The King of Corona had either had much more instruction in penmanship or had simply chosen to take his more seriously than the late King of Arendelle.

_HRH Princess Elsa of Arendelle, _

_ Though I have been in and out of the castle many times in the past eighteen years, our paths have rarely crossed. Nonetheless, as a close friend and confidante of your father's I know more about you than you realize. I regret that it has taken a tragedy of this magnitude for me to write you personally. It is a bittersweet day for me, that I must celebrate the recovery of my daughter but mourn the loss of a dear friend, and I know that your grief must be many times harsher than mine. _

_ I am writing to express my sorrow for your loss as personally as possible and to offer my services. I made a promise to your father long ago that, should anything happen to he and your mother, I would guide you toward becoming the Queen he always knew you could be. In three short years, you will come of age to assume the throne. In the meantime, your father has left Arendelle in the hands of a very capable regent, but, should you have any questions left unaddressed by the prematurity and abruptness in the way your training ended, or should you simply wish to talk about your parents with someone who has been near to them for a long time, know that I am here to listen and to aid in the way best that I am able. Though we have met fewer times than I would have liked, I regard you with the same fondness as I regard my own daughter. _

_ I trust we shall meet face to face in only a few weeks' time at the funeral. Though I wish the circumstances were different, I look forward to seeing how you've grown. You father has told me you have become an intelligent and capable young woman. _

_While the mood does not fit the darkness that has settled in both of our hearts, I would be remiss if I did not wish you well on your birthday in only a few weeks' time. I express sincerest hope that the upcoming year brings you and yours better fortune than this one has. _

_Deepest sympathies,_

_HM King Thomas of Corona_

They had not, of course, met at the funeral. Despite Anna's muffled but many pleas, Elsa's door had remained steadfastly bolted. The decision had been, in part, due to a certain fear of facing the people. Anna was not next in line for the throne, after all, and, while she would be seen as a mere grieving daughter, Elsa would be seen as the next Queen. The other part had been, of course, the fact that she couldn't seem to control herself enough not to instantly freeze everything she touched, and what would have happened when Anna inevitably flung herself at her sister the moment the door swung open?

Gingerly, she sets the letter aside and unfolds the next. This one is shorter, written a year, nearly to the day, after the first.

_HRH Princess Elsa of Arendelle,_

_ I hope this letter finds you and your sister in better spirits than my last correspondence. Not a day goes by that I do not miss my dearest friend. I cannot imagine the sorrow that must befall you and Anna at this time of year. They say that the first year after such a great loss is the hardest, and I hope for all of our sakes that this is true._

_ Nonetheless, a year has passed, and we must carry on. No matter how unfair it may seem, the world does not cease turning for one man and woman, however important they may have been. I write you at this time with light-hearted intentions. I simply want to wish you a happy birthday. You have been the Lady of Arendelle Castle for only a short time, but I can see greatness in you yet. This year, on your nineteenth birthday, I wish you confidence and strength to prepare for your inevitable ascension to the throne. A great leader is not one who succeeds in every endeavor, but one who has the courage to try. _

_ I hope this year brings you good fortune. I know you are bound in a struggle that seems everlasting, but trust, dear girl, that the sun will shine on you again. I remind you that, should you need anything, I am at your service._

_Warm wishes,_

_HM King Thomas of Corona_

Elsa remembers receiving this letter more clearly than she remembers receiving the first, but she suspects that has a lot to do with the fact that the days, weeks immediately preceding her parents death passed in such a haze, and she was not exactly in her… clearest state of mind for many of them. She'd been surprised to hear from the King of Corona again. She had never answered the first letter, after all, and he had been her parents' friend, not hers.

However, the following year, she'd almost been expecting a letter—her hand gravitates toward the third in the stack—and thus, she had not been so stupefied on its arrival. She takes care as she unfolds it, though this paper is not as brittle with age as the first two.

_HRH Princess Elsa of Arendelle,_

_ I write, once again, to wish you happiest birthday memories. By now, I hope that your parents' death is not so much a weight on your heart as a motivator. In one short year, you will be Queen. I know your father has been preparing you to rule for nearly as long as you have been able to talk, and, knowing you as well as can be hoped for someone who has not spoken to you face to face in half a dozen years, I am sure you have continued to take your preparation very seriously. _

_ I know that leaving your teenage years behind may make you feel like an adult, but, I am afraid, as an occupational hazard of being an old family friend, that I still see you as the lively child who made it snow in the entrance hall every time Primrose and I visited the castle. You are not that child anymore. I heard it from your parents that you have grown serious, insightful, fiercely protective, and ultimately selfless with age. These are admirable qualities for a future Queen, but I remind you that you are still young, and—take it from someone who is not anymore—you will regret it if you do not take advantage of your youth. I look at my daughter, so full of life and of love, and then I think of you locked away in that castle. You have always had much more weight on your shoulders than my dear Rapunzel, by my heart bleeds for you all the same. You may be twenty now, but you are still a child in the eyes of those so much older. You can afford a mistake or two. Dedicate this last year to your studies, and prepare yourself as much as you can to sit in your father's place as the head of your kingdom, but know that no amount of reading from books will ever be enough, and give yourself a break every now and then. Take some time to dance, to drink, to fall in love, to take a ship to sea just for the thrill of it. We have all done it, your father included. Your childhood was so cruelly shortened. Take this opportunity to take back your adolescence. _

_ I will take this opportunity to remind you, once again, that my letter box is always open, should you need anything._

_Best regards,_

_HM King Thomas of Arendelle_

There is one letter left from the stack. It is quite recent, only about two months old. This one Elsa had not only expected, but awaited. Even though she had never acted on the King's request to write him with any questions, she had grown to enjoy the letters for their words of encouragement. It was almost like having a parent again. Almost. She unfolds the final letter, its message still familiar in her head.

_HRH Princess Elsa of Arendelle,_

_ It seems next time I write you I shall have to use a different title. Your day has finally come. I regret to say that Primrose and I will be unable to attend your coronation. We will send in our stead Princess Rapunzel and the Prince Consort, Eugene. Hopefully you will find their company pleasant. _

_ I remember you as a child and I still cannot believe you are taking the throne in only a few weeks. I look at my daughter, the same age as you, and I know that she would not be ready. You carry such a heavy burden on such narrow shoulders. Your life has been marked by trials. For such a short time in this world you have shown remarkable strength. It is important that you know that your parents died proud of you and of the ruler you would become. If there is anything that made their deaths easier, I believe it was carrying with them the knowledge that they were leaving their nation in such capable hands. _

_ I will caution you that some may try to take advantage of your youth and inexperience. You are entering a world where, unlike the palace you grew up in, not everyone will have your best interests at heart. Do not be intimidated by older Kings and Queens. You are their equal now, and you have shown resilience and character in the face of challenges, the likes of which few men have ever faced. Age so often underestimates youth. I expect your reign will be marked with all the greatness of your father's. Whatever you may believe, your parents loved you very much and had all the confidence in the world in your ability to lead. All you need is confidence in yourself. It is natural to be frightened at this point in your life. Your father was terrified, as was I, when our times came, but take it from a seasoned King that it's all for naught. From your very conception, you were destined for greatness. You were born to be a Queen. _

_ Even though your period of training will soon be over, I feel compelled to inform you that my offer of services does not expire when the crown is placed upon your head. Any questions you ask me, I will answer as truthfully and as helpfully as I am able, as if you were my own daughter. There is no need to feel you are alone. _

_Now and forever yours,_

_HM King Thomas of Corona_

Is it at all possible that perhaps she is not an orphan after all? She understands now why Anna is drawn to this idea, as opposed to, in her sister's words, some rando. That, perhaps, this man who has written her every year on her birthday since their parents' death with words of advice and encouragement is… is really…? She wonders if he ever wrote Anna. She has never asked.

Elsa folds the letters back into themselves and places them carefully into the drawer, atop the poetry book. Perhaps the King of Corona, with all he claimed to know about her, will be able to provide some answers.

* * *

A/N: I have a pretty good reason for taking so long to update this time, and it's called, I worked all last weekend and didn't even get to start this chapter until Tuesday. Plus, the shitty thing about semesters is that midterms are still a thing. Not to mention that, at 5369, this is the longest chapter by about six hundred words.

This one was kind of hard to write, because a lot sort of had to happen, but I am pleased with how it turned out, so hopefully you all agree.

I really enjoyed all the theorizing that went on in the reviews (a lot of you seemed to come to the same conclusion). I'm not going to say anything on that topic because the risk of spoilers there is enormous. Keep on reviewing!


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